#don’t care if he ascends. mildly surprised if he doesn’t.

[gaylittleguys]

Shadowheart winning the idgaf war

#obsessed with how much she kinda doesn’t give a shit lmaooo #I love herrrrr #it’s so funny having her cheery dialogue when you talk to her even if the situation you’re in in nightmarish #bestie I’m so glad at least somebody’s having a good time down in cazadors dungeons because my god nobody else is #looveeeee that she’s not actually that bothered either way vis a vis that storyline either #.doc #bg3 #like During the cutscene she’s like noooo stoppppp #but once it’s over she’s like idgaf. #don’t care if he ascends. mildly surprised if he doesn’t. #I adore her #I know she does care she’s just not feeling much of anything so I get it but she’s so funny

[luckhound]

— heavy burdens.

pairing.  kaeya/gender neutral reader

genre.  angst

description.  on an important anniversary, kaeya gets drunk off his ass, bonds with a fellow captain, and realizes some burdens can’t ever be set back down.

warnings.  spoilers for kaeya and diluc’s character stories. mentions of alcohol and a character (kaeya) being under the influence.

note.  four months later and i’ve finally finished this fic after writing it on and off for that whole time mskfjdks a big thank you to sierra, miya, and grace for reading over the previous drafts of this and giving me their honest thoughts, love you ladies <3

He hadn’t expected to get shitfaced when he had first stepped foot in the tavern. Honest.

His plan for the evening was as follows: Go to Angel’s Share, chat with patrons, share some laughs, learn some secrets, and see where the night goes. Only the information he gleaned would tell how it ended; with him stumbling back to his quarters for a night’s rest, or ruminating on how to dismantle schemes that enemies of Mondstadt were concocting in the shadows.

So, the usual. Nothing too noteworthy.

Then he happened to overhear a conversation on the way there.

The two civilians spoke in low, somber tones about how it has been exactly one year since Master Crepus’s death and his son Diluc’s subsequent departure from Mondstadt. How terrible, they mused as they shook their heads, that the new winery master hasn’t been heard from since. He must still be in mourning over his father.

Kaeya nearly stopped in the middle of the crowded street. Was today really the one-year anniversary of Master Crepus’s death? How had it managed to slip his mind? He’s been busy lately with a promising lead, true, but to think that he would forget...

Which, long story cut ruthlessly short, leads him to where he is now. Tuning out his tumultuous thoughts with the help of alcohol and secrets.

Upon entering the tavern to raucous cheers, he had flitted from table to table like the social butterfly he's purported to be. The usual suspects greeted him with varying levels of warmth, inviting him to sit and keep them company. Stable hands and bandits alike shared a drink with him, words spilling from their lips like the fine wine they supped on.

After some time, though, he grew tired of their monotonous days and banal gripes. So he retreated to the bar counter. As he nursed a Death After Noon, he kept an ear out, listening carefully even as he chatted with Charles between customers.

Unfortunately, he hasn’t heard anything juicy yet. So and so is complaining about his wife, while someone else is haranguing her boss, and another is celebrating their birthday. Dull and uninteresting.

Can you blame him for getting so deep in his cups? There’s nothing else to do on such a slow night.

“So this is where you decided to hide out. Colour me surprised.”

Kaeya notes the shadow falling over the counter moments before a familiar drawl reaches his ears. He tilts his head up, blinking furiously when his vision blurs. The drinks he's downed thus far—how many has it been? He lost count after five, how unlike him—have certainly reached his bloodstream.

You stand beside his stool, your lips thinned into an unimpressed line. Despite how inebriated he is, the relevant information he has on you flashes through his mind. A Knight of Favonius. Captain of the Intelligence Team. Once a company grade officer, then sergeant, lieutenant, before ascending to captain upon the retirement of your superior.

As admired as he is by most of Mondstadt, you’re among the minority who are far from his biggest fans. For good reason, he supposes. During your first meeting, he had congratulated you on your promotion, before going on to flippantly insult your old captain. You’ve hated him ever since.

Which is why he’s puzzled by you approaching him first—outside of headquarters, at that. Such a phenomenon is rare, like catching a crystalfly in your hands.

“Captain! Fancy seeing you here,” he greets, adopting a jovial tone. Then your words register in his addled mind. “‘Hide out’, you said? Whatever would I do that for?”

You prop a hand on your hip. “You didn’t make an appearance at the meeting today. Needless to say, the Dandelion Knight isn’t too impressed with you at the moment.” You appraise him, looking underwhelmed by what you see. Ouch. “Strange. You don’t seem terribly ill to me.”

Ah. That. Kaeya had wanted to investigate some curious rumours he’d heard around the city, so he made up a flimsy excuse to dodge the captain’s meeting held this morning. Grand Master Varka likely hadn’t batted an eye over it, but not Jean. She’ll have concerns.

He hums noncommittally. The thought of annoying his oldest ally never fails to bring a smirk to his lips, but he isn’t quite in the mood right now. “Is that so. You must be here to sternly tell me to clean up my act then.”

You scoff. “Surely you don’t need a second babysitter. No, I’m off-duty, so I’m here for the same reason everyone else is: to drink.”

“Hear, hear.” He lifts his tankard as if to toast to you, but the sudden momentum causes him to sway dangerously in his seat.

“Careful!” Eyes widening in alarm, you reach out to steady him. “Geez, Alberich. How many drinks have you had?”

The palm of your hand is warm where it sits on his shoulder; he can tell that even with his furs in the way. He almost leans into the touch but catches himself at the last second. How mortifying. He can just picture your horrified reaction to him drunkenly nuzzling up against you.

Almost falling off his seat in a crowded tavern, instinctively seeking out your slightest touch... He needs to get a hold of himself. Or find a way to halt the conversation here, so he can resume drinking by his lonesome.

“Not nearly enough,” he answers airily, leaning an elbow on the bar counter. You drop your hand to your side; he makes a point to not stare at it as you do. “Where’s your entourage? I’m surprised they aren't following dutifully behind you.”

“They’re my subordinates, not my entourage.” You shift awkwardly. “And they aren’t here. It may surprise you, but they have lives outside of the Intelligence Team. They can enjoy one evening without their captain breathing down their necks.”

He eyes you in amusement. “In that case, you should join me. I would welcome the company.” He finishes off his tankard, then motions to Charles for another drink. The bartender doesn’t even ask which one as he takes the pewter mug. He knows him well by now, after all.

Kaeya expects you to turn him down and find a seat elsewhere. Usually, such an invitation is enough to send you running for the hills. You lean a hip against the counter instead, as if settling in. “If I am not mistaken, you’re needed at headquarters tomorrow. I strongly advise you to call it a night, Captain.”

“Aww, are you worried about me, Captain?” He manages a grin at the scowl his reply elicits. “Don’t be. It won’t be the first time I stumble into work hungover. Certainly won’t be the last either.”

“How reassuring,” you say dryly.

“I aim to please.”

He perks up when Charles returns with a full tankard. The delectable taste of Death After Noon still sits on his tongue, warm and heady. He very much wants to experience it again. When he lifts the mug to his mouth, however, he misses the rim. He steadies the tankard before it empties itself onto his lap, but some of the wine drips down his chin, ruining his vest.

Thank goodness he isn’t drinking red wine. Every adult in Mondstadt knows red wine stains are notoriously difficult to clean. Still, what a waste of a perfectly good sip.

“Oh, for Barbatos’s sake.” That’s all the warning he gets before his drink is rudely snatched from his hand. He protests but can only watch helplessly as you bring it to your lips.

Then you proceed to down it.

His brows raise higher and higher the longer your throat bobs. He's never seen you drink with such gusto before. Shouldn’t you be gasping for breath by now? But no, you empty the tankard in a single go, then slam it on the counter (Charles makes a face, but wisely says nothing) and meet his gaze without flinching.

Wow, is all that his intoxicated mind can conjure up at the feat.

“There, all done. Now let’s go. I am walking you back.” Your voice is firm, brooking no argument. How captain-like of you. “Wouldn’t want Mondstadt’s illustrious Cavalry Captain to be found passed out in an alleyway tomorrow.”

On any other day, he’d be mildly irked by your stubbornness. But he did just spill his drink down his front like a newborn babe. No wonder you brought up his rank. In your eyes, his conduct must not befit that of a high-ranking knight. He doesn’t care what assumptions people form about him, never has, but tonight has been a bust anyway. Maybe it's best to call it quits.

Sighing theatrically, he rises to his feet. “All right, I know when I have been beaten. But don’t change your plans on my account. I can head to the barracks by myself just fine.”

“I’m sure you can,” you say, “but letting you walk alone this late in your state would grate at my conscience. So would you stop talking for once, and let me take you home?”

You get what you want. Your words render him silent.

Home, you called the barracks. He supposes you consider that place your home. But is it his, truly?

He thinks of Khaenri’ah, nothing but a distant, bloody memory. He thinks of his father, and how in their final moments together, the man had stared through him like he wasn’t there. He thinks of the Dawn Winery, where he had spent several years causing mayhem. He thinks of Master Crepus, never dad, and a brother who doesn’t exist anymore.

No, the barracks aren’t his home. Maybe he’s never had one to begin with.

When he comes to, Kaeya registers you leading him in the direction of the tavern door, your hand on his shoulder blade. This quickly catches the attention of the patrons. They call out their goodbyes, some raising their tankards and others chuckling good-naturedly.

“Look at that! Our Cavalry Cap’n had too much to drink, eh?”

“What, are you tapping out already, Captain Kaeya?”

“Has to be escorted out by a fellow knight, no less!”

You wave over your shoulder. “Just doing my patriotic duty, that's all.”

Kaeya gives his audience an exaggerated wink (as well as he can with his one uncovered eye) followed by a lazy hand salute. His grin remains fixed in place until the door swings shut. The wooden barrier barely muffles the sounds of conversation and merriment coming from within.

Had it been that loud while he was inside? He hadn’t noticed.

He isn’t able to dwell on it for long, because you nudge him in the direction of headquarters. “Come on. We have a bit of a walk ahead of us. Let’s get to it.”

“Oh, very well. But only because you asked so nicely.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“I know. I was being sarcastic.”

You nudge him harder, and he snickers under his breath as he walks.

This time of night, the cobblestone streets seem devoid of life. With the exception of Patton, who’s practically asleep standing up, the two of you don’t run into anyone. It's a stark change from how the city usually is, bright and bustling with crowds.

It suits him just fine, though. The crisp night air is sobering him up somewhat, the fog that had settled over his mind thinning. All too soon, he recalls everything he was trying to suppress.

Master Crepus. Diluc. His callousness and cruelty in forgetting them both.

In hindsight, he should have taken his mug back from you instead of just gaping like a fool. Sobriety is such a drag.

“You’re quiet,” you comment. You’re staring at him intently, your expression eerily similar to Timaeus’s when he is observing an alchemical reaction. It’s as if he is a specimen that you are keen on studying under a microscope.

He wants to scowl, to snap at you. “My apologies,” he says instead, as innocent as can be. “Were you waiting for me to strike up a conversation? Hold on a moment, let me think of a good topic...”

“That is not what I meant and you know it. It’s just, usually it’s impossible to get you to stop talking. The times I have seen you...indisposed”—buzzed as a bee, you undoubtedly mean—“that doesn’t change. You talk more, if anything.”

Curiously, your voice softens, an odd cadence colouring it. One he has not heard from you before, not directed at him at least. “I guess I’m just wondering if something is weighing on your mind. Is that what prompted you to drink so much tonight?”

By now, the two of you have walked down the stairway to the Knights of Favonius’s bulletin board. Of course, Hertha isn’t there this late to assign requests and bounties. The pieces of parchment pinned to the board flutter in the breeze. He stares at the sketch of a Ruin Guard, willing his sluggish mind to craft a suitable answer.

After a beat, his eye slides over to you. An impish grin curls at the corners of his mouth. “My, I had no idea that you watched my every move so closely. I’m flattered by the attention.”

Predictably, you sputter. “What even—that is not—you know what, if you want to dodge the question so badly, fine. We can just walk the rest of the way in silence.”

“As you wish, Captain.”

Although his words were said to fluster you into changing the subject, as you had correctly deduced, Kaeya means them. You have noticed him far more than he realized. As Captain of the Intelligence Team, it’s your job to be observant and keep tabs on others. He knows that. Still, it’s disconcerting to learn that you’ve had a close eye on him in particular.

He operates from the shadows for a reason; he can’t have you jeopardizing that by shining a light on him. Five months into your new position, and already you have proven yourself to be dangerous.

As you wished for, silence reigns as the two of you turn into an alley and approach two flights of stairs, leading to the center of the city. Kaeya resists pressing a hand against the nearest wall for balance. He had walked down a stairway unaided just moments ago, despite how unsteady he felt. Surely ascending some steps would prove to be easier.

Rather than focus on his feet, he looks up ahead. From his position, he can just barely glimpse the blades of a windmill, ever-turning against the dark backdrop of the night sky. He keeps his gaze there as he climbs, his boots scraping against stone.

He clears the first flight of stairs with little issue. See? Nothing to it.

Halfway up the second, Kaeya stumbles.

His surroundings tilt, blurring as he fumbles for balance. It’s a futile effort. Thanks to how inebriated he is, his limbs are too heavy and uncoordinated. The stone below rushes up to meet him.

Before his face can greet it, however, you catch him.

Your side moulds against his, a hand clasping his hip while the other carefully grasps at his spiked pauldron. His gloved hand covers yours reflexively as his racing heartbeat settles. He feels you stiffen at the touch, but you don't pull away. Neither does he.

For a moment, not a word is spoken between you both. The alley is filled only with the soft sound of breathing.

Then you click your tongue. “So much for heading back by yourself. You can barely keep your feet under you.” Your voice lilts with humour.

He knows this song and dance. It has been ingrained in him after all these months. You snark at him, he snarks back. Rinse and repeat. Although this is the first time he has heard levity in your tone; the first time it has been aimed at him, that is. He almost hadn’t thought you capable of it.

He straightens with a chuckle. “First at the tavern, and now in an alley. I just keep falling for you tonight, don’t I?”

You blink owlishly. It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Then a flustered expression crosses your features, before you compose yourself. “You are unbelievable.”

He grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes, even as the corners of your lips twitch. “You would.”

Kaeya expects you to move away, so the two of you can resume walking, but you don’t. “Not that I mind having your hands on me, but...will you be letting go any time soon?”

“That depends.” A challenging glint appears in your eye. “Can you handle walking on your own? Or do you need me to cradle you the rest of the way to headquarters, like some damsel?”

He guffaws, taken off-guard by the retort. A reply escapes his loosened tongue before he can think better of it, “Archons, that sounded just like him.”

“Like who?”

“My brother.”

In the past, despite being underage, he was sometimes able to charm bartenders at Angel’s Share—new hires unaware of how to deal with him as of yet—into serving him drinks. Diluc would find him eventually, a disapproving twist to his mouth, and put a stop to it.

Back then, Kaeya was a lightweight and had to be supported back to headquarters. Diluc would scowl and roll his eyes the entire way, but there was still a softness in his gaze. His hands were strong, but careful; Kaeya knew that his brother would not let him fall. He could even be persuaded to join in when Kaeya began to sing, their off-key voices disturbing the silence of the night.

Come morning, while Kaeya nursed the inevitable headache and Jean nagged him about violating the Knights of Favonius Handbook, Diluc would snort. “Serves you right,” he’d say, then hand him a draught for curing hangovers.

Now Kaeya must weather the pain alone.

You tilt your head to the side, your gaze fixed on his. “I had no idea that you have a brother,” you say softly.

Had, he nearly corrects. But he has told you too much already.

This is why he is so careful when drinking in the company of others. Alcohol is a double-edged sword; as delectable as it is, it also loosens inhibitions. It’s what he relies on when charming information out of allies and adversaries alike, none of them the wiser of what they have given up.

How the tables have turned.

“Well, now you do.” A trace of bitterness enters his tone.

You eye him, quiet, before pulling back. You motion forward with your chin. “Let’s keep moving. We’ll never make it to headquarters at this pace.”

Relieved by the subject change, he listens. He makes a conscious effort to place one foot in front of the other, gaze trained on the remaining steps below. You stay at his side, closer than you were before. He can feel your hand hovering at the small of his back, ready to catch him should he trip once more, but he ignores it.

It won’t happen again. He’ll make sure of it.

The alley opens up to a view of the market district. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have long to enjoy the reprieve. The two of you turn right, away from the railing overlooking the main square, to climb two more flights of stairs. A left, and more stairways await.

By the time the Knights of Favonius Headquarters looms above you, Kaeya’s legs ache from the walk. He is very much looking forward to retiring to his quarters.

The knights stationed outside stiffen at the sight of you and Kaeya, standing at attention. They perform a salute in perfect unison. Do they rehearse that before every shift? Surely they must.

The guard on the left, with the glasses and unfortunate haircut, chirps, “Good evening, Captains! I hope you are doing well.” He appears wide awake despite the late hour.

At least the one on the right looks appropriately haggard. “Welcome back,” he grunts.

While Kaeya brushes past them with a nod of acknowledgement, eager to head inside, you stop. “Good evening, Athos, Porthos. Your shift ends soon, I hope? It can’t be terribly interesting, standing watch outside headquarters so late.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Captain!” Athos, as you had referred to him, says. “Guard duty may not be glamorous, but it is still important.”

“Much as I agree with the lad, I can’t bring myself to be so damn cheerful about it,” Porthos sighs, his words tinged with self-deprecation. “Must be ‘cause of these old bones.”

“That’s not true, Sir Porthos. Your bones aren’t that old!” the younger knight argues, prompting the older to shake his head with a chuckle.

“Athos isn’t wrong,” you add. “You are far more sprightly than most knights I know.”

“If that’s true, then Mondstadt is in trouble.”

Smiling and shaking your head, you finally pass by them, climbing the short steps to return to Kaeya's side. He lifts a brow as he pulls on one of the large oak doors, holding it open for you.

It’s almost comical how quickly your smile disappears. Your eyes narrow as you enter inside. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” he says breezily, following after you. The door falls closed behind you both with a loud, echoing thud. “Just that I didn’t know you were so chummy with the guards.”

It is blindingly bright inside the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, as if it isn’t nearing midnight. The sconces on the walls are lit up, as is the chandelier hanging in the center of the main hall. The two of you make your way towards the—joy of all joys—staircase. The barracks for knights are located on the second floor, and on the floor above that, separate quarters for the captains.

“I am off-duty right now. It’s not unprofessional for me to speak informally with them.”

His eye widens. “Why, I never said it was unprofessional, Captain.”

You grind your teeth so hard he can practically hear the enamel wearing away. “You implied it.” No, he didn’t. Your distaste for him has you imagining mockery where there is none. As if Kaeya has any room to judge someone for acting unprofessional.

“I did? That’s news to me.” Privately, he marvels at how easily he can agitate you. Him, no one else—he has observed you long enough to know your prickliness is reserved for him alone. Maybe that’s why he annoys you further instead of clearing up the many miscommunications that tend to occur. Not that you’ll believe him, even if he’s being completely honest.

You huff. “How the Dandelion Knight manages to put up with you, I’ll never know,” you mutter.

“How rude, Captain! Jean doesn’t put up with me, she considers me indispensable.”

You cut a look at him. “Yes, I’m sure she thought the same when you failed to show up to today’s meeting.”

“Must you bring that up again? I shudder just thinking of the lecture she’ll have ready for me in the morning. Perhaps my mysterious ailment should plague me for a little while longer...”

“Prolonging the inevitable will do you no favours.” You pause briefly, then add, “Ah, I almost forgot to mention. After the meeting, I ran into Inspector Eroch. He was waiting outside and asked after you. He seemed irked when I informed him that you were absent today.”

If Kaeya was not so skilled at masking his reactions, he would’ve perked up at that. He might have even stopped in his tracks or whipped his head around to look at you. But he knows better than to give himself away so obviously. He leisurely climbs the steps, his features revealing only vague interest. “Oh? Somehow I doubt he was upset out of concern for my wellbeing.”

You glance over. “I wouldn’t know. He did not say anything when I asked why he wanted to see you, or if I could pass on a message. He just brushed me off and left.”

“Don’t be hurt by his shameful conduct, Captain. I for one enjoy your company immensely.”

You ignore his thoughtful statement. “I thought that he might have had a prior engagement with you, which you missed due to being terribly ill.”

He shrugs. “If we did, I don’t recall it.”

That earns him another look, longer than the one before. He doesn’t flinch away from it, his expression remaining serene. Privately, he wonders what you know. Are you merely intrigued by what Inspector Eroch might want with him? Or are you more aware than you’re letting on?

After all, Eroch is the one Kaeya has been secretly investigating for the past year.

Looks like the inspector has caught on. About time. No doubt he wants to figure out just how much Kaeya knows—which is not much, unfortunately. He knows that Eroch has more than just Mondstadt’s best interests in mind; a Fatui spy like him would have just the opposite. But he is unsure what the man is up to, or who he even is.

He does, however, have an inkling. Several, even.

Inspector Eroch had been insistent on covering up the details of Master Crepus’s death. For the good of Mondstadt, he claimed, not wanting the citizenry to lose faith in the Knights of Favonius. Grand Master Varka had ultimately sided with him. It resulted in Diluc resigning his position and leaving the city a year ago.

Kaeya had kept an eye on the inspector after that. He knew there was more to the situation than just preserving Mondstadt’s trust in the Knights, and it had everything to do with the dangerous and evil power Master Crepus had harnessed. It was only a matter of figuring out what. And once he has all of the information...

Well, he knows what Diluc would do, once upon a time. Blazing with righteous fury, he’d take his findings to Grand Master Varka, insisting on Eroch’s arrest and expulsion from the Knights of Favonius. He would see it as retribution for how poorly his father’s death had been handled.

But Kaeya suffers from no delusions. Maybe he looked into Eroch because of Master Crepus. Maybe he wanted some kind of revenge for what happened. Maybe he yearned to atone for his past inaction. None of that means he has any heroic intentions.

If it serves his interests better, he won’t expose the inspector immediately. He will hoard his knowledge instead, keeping his cards close to his chest until it’s the right time to play them.

That is how he has always operated. Master Crepus's death and Diluc's departure have not changed that. For a brief, nonsensical moment, he wishes they had. Then common sense returns to him. A foolhardy sense of justice is of no use to him. He’ll leave that to Diluc.

While he extricates himself from his wayward thoughts, you turn away to clear the last few steps. “If it is important, surely he will try to approach you again,” you say.

“I look forward to it with bated breath.”

You scoff, rightfully skeptical, but don’t respond. Clearly, you are content to leave it at that.

He wonders at how easily you let the subject drop. Had you suspected something, you would have pushed to learn more, wouldn’t you? Now is as opportune a time as any; it’s late, he’s tired and drunk, and the both of you are alone. Does that make you oblivious, or an idiot, or crafty?

Having made it to the third floor, the two of you make your way down the hallway. His quarters are before your own, three doors on the left. He stops in front of his door, reaching into one of many hidden coat pockets to produce his key.

He glances at you. You have yet to leave for own your room. “You don’t have to hover at my side, you know,” he says with a touch of amusement. “I may be tipsy, but I am no longer in any danger of being harassed by ruffians or passing out in the streets. Unless you're secretly harbouring nefarious intentions towards me, Captain.”

“You’ll just have to wait and find out,” is your unruffled response.

Chuckling under his breath, he unlocks his door and lets it swing open wide. It’s dark inside, faint moonlight shining through the small window above his desk. Coupled with the sconces out in the hallway, however, there is enough light for him to stumble to his bedside without stubbing a single toe. He doesn’t bother to close the door on you; he has nothing to hide.

Kaeya knows what his quarters must look like to a stranger. They’re a mess, as if someone had searched them in a haste and not bothered to clean up afterward. The walls are bare, save for a map of Mondstadt that he’d hung up ages ago. Tomes of all sizes and loose leaves of parchment litter his oak desk, pushed up against a wall. A quill lies abandoned atop a half-finished note with ink drying on its nib. His closet door is cracked open, a discarded boot dissuading anyone from forcing it shut.

Yes, his quarters are a mess. But he knows exactly where everything is. Should someone actually attempt to search his things, he would know immediately. Not that they would find anything particularly damning. He isn’t foolish enough to leave important documents or sensitive information lying about—nothing he is unwilling to part with, anyway.

“Horrifying, but unsurprising,” he hears you mutter to yourself.

Kaeya doesn’t even consider slipping out of his ruined clothes or engaging you in further conversation. Now that he has made it back to his quarters, all he can think about is the sweet embrace of sleep. He sinks into his unmade bed, draping an arm over his face.

You continue to linger in the doorway. “You should change before you fall asleep.”

“Mhm.”

“You'll regret not doing so in the morning.”

“Uh-huh.” He still doesn’t move.

“Alberich. You stink of booze.”

“You sure know how to compliment a guy, Captain. I’m impressed.”

You sigh, long and loud. He waits to hear the door close behind you, only for you to walk up to his bedside. Your steps are slow, hesitant yet purposeful. He stiffens, immediately on-guard, but fights his instincts in order to remain still. What are you planning?

He feels you grip his boot. Metal jingles as you undo the buckle. Then you pry it off.

He lifts his arm to peer up at you. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You set his boot on the ground, then move on to the other one. “If you won’t change, you should at least take off your shoes. You’ll dirty your sheets otherwise.”

Oh, you make it so easy for him to twist everything you say into an innuendo. For once he resists the urge. “You forgot something,” he says instead. He wiggles his sock-clad foot at you. Just to see if you will do it.

You grimace, swatting his leg away. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to be anywhere near those.”

So you say. But you’re taking his boots off for him out of your own volition. There is no need for you to do any of this. It’s not your duty to stop him from drinking himself into a stupor, or walk him back to headquarters unharmed, or all but tuck him into bed. Yet here you are.

What is it that you want? There have been plenty of opportunities for you to try and take advantage of his drunken state, but you have sidestepped every one. Frustration brews in his sternum.

“Do you do this for everyone who you hate?” he finds himself asking, tone purposely lighthearted.

You pause in your ministrations to stare at him. “What? I don't hate you.” At his disbelieving look, you insist, “I don’t. You have always been a pain to deal with, sure, but I never once felt that way.”

He smiles, unconvinced. “Not even when I insulted your dear old captain?”

“Insulted my... That was months ago, when we first met.” Despite your bewilderment, you take a moment to contemplate his question. “I was upset with you, yes. But now that I’ve had this position for some time...maybe your assessment wasn’t off. When I was lieutenant, I didn’t always see eye-to-eye with my captain. They were too set in their ways and scorned most criticism. I respected them, and still do, but I shouldn’t be ignorant of their faults.”

Your gaze meets his once more. “In a way, what you said that day led me to realize that. You weren’t badmouthing my captain; you didn’t have a vendetta or want to get a rise out of me. At least, I don’t think you did. You must have legitimate issues with their leadership, as a captain yourself.”

He watches you shrewdly. Your tone was even, your expression clear. He cannot detect any deception from you. Of course, that means little. Still, perhaps you’re telling the truth. Perhaps you don’t hate him after all.

A headache, newly formed, pounds at his temple. If he were more sober, he would be better equipped to handle such a revelation. He’ll have to come to a proper conclusion later.

You fiddle with the buckle on his remaining boot. “And what about you?”

“Hmm? What about me?”

“You have ample reason to look down on me. Most of the knights know that you aren’t just Cavalry Captain and Quartermaster. Your role is more important than that. Surely you would make a better...” you trail off, your jaw working silently.

Kaeya knows how that sentence ends. Surely you would make a better Captain of the Intelligence Team than me. It doesn’t come as a surprise.

Up until now, he thought he knew you well. You made it no secret you loathed him. You have never said so explicitly, but he has a talent for reading people. It’s a classic case of envy. He has seen it many times before. You compare yourself to him and find yourself wanting. It colours the way you interact with him; your words brusque, your gaze narrowed.

Not only did he insult your captain, but you consider him more capable than you. Your hatred makes sense. It’s predictable.

Or so he believed, until tonight.

“You know what, never mind. Forget I asked.” Uh-oh. Seems he took too long to respond. You busy yourself with unbuckling his boot, avoiding his eye.

If he were to be honest, there are many ways he could answer you. He thinks you are a better captain than your superior could ever hope to have been. He thinks you are a leader capable of inspiring undying loyalty in your officers. He thinks you have a deep, unflinching love for Mondstadt and its people. He thinks you constantly push yourself to greater heights, to the point it lights a fire in him as well.

He admits to none of those things, in the end.

“Give yourself some credit, Captain,” he murmurs. You glance over in surprise. He meets your gaze. For perhaps the first time in a while, he hopes his words sound sincere—not because he doesn’t mean them, but because he does. “I know the officers under your supervision think you’re a good leader. They wouldn’t want anyone else to take your place.” Certainly not someone like me.

Instead of reassuring you, however, his answer seems to do the opposite. You look frustrated. “That isn’t what I...” you trail off. You search his features, silent, before your brow furrows. “I can’t tell if you mean what you just said. Sometimes I’m not sure I ever can.”

He takes care not to allow his features to visibly harden. Of course you would doubt him, the one time he tries to be honest with you. What else did he expect? Maybe you don't hate him, maybe you never have, but that means little. You won’t ever fully trust him. To be fair, the feeling is mutual.

His mouth tastes unbearably bitter. It must be the wine.

“At this point, I’m willing to say just about anything if it’ll mean I can get some shut-eye.” He feels no satisfaction upon seeing your shoulders stiffen. He still manages to grin. “Well, Captain? Any other requests?”

“No,” you say. Then you tug off his boot with a brisk motion.

He stifles a yelp. “Hey, now! No need to be so rough.”

“My sincere apologies.” You set the boot down next to his other one, your lips thinned. “I should go. Wouldn’t want you to lose more sleep than you already have. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, after all.”

Talk about vindictive. Despite his irritation, he has to fight a smile. Knowing you, you’ll see it and take it the wrong way, as you usually do.

Having finished removing his boots, you turn and walk for the door without another word.

He’s struck with the odd urge to stop you. To reach out, take your hand in his, and tug you back. Not because he wants something from you, or needs to tell you something. He wishes you would stay a little longer, that’s all. Wants the silence to be filled by your voice instead of his thoughts.

Now he knows he’s had too much to drink. He’s contemplating such ridiculous things.

Before his addled mind can catch up and he can say something, apologize perhaps, you shut the door behind you. Your footsteps travel down the hallway, slightly hurried. The door to your quarters creaks open then closed.

He’s too late. It’s for the best.

Kaeya lies back and stares up at the ceiling. His vision swims, as if he’s adrift at sea. Closing his eye only makes it worse.

His mind pores over the events of the day. Investigating Eroch, remembering Master Crepus and Diluc, visiting the tavern, running into you. He feels restless, pulled in several directions at once.

With a harsh exhale, he rises to his feet and locks his door. Then he begins his nightly ritual.

His pauldron is first to go. It hits the floor with a dull noise. Then he peels off his gloves and tosses them on the desk. The burns on his hands have long since healed, but he still deals with numbness now and then. Not many know they even exist; he doesn’t want anyone taking advantage of a potential weakness. His eyepatch follows closely after.

He removes the Cryo Vision from his belt last. He stares at it, its blue glow washing over his scarred palm and turning his skin a sickly brown hue. If it’s been a year since Master Crepus’s death, it has been about a year since he was gifted a Vision as well. The sight of it has been a hard reminder ever since. Of how he’d won a difficult battle. Of how he’d finally revealed the truth. Of how he can never speak it again.

He tucks the Vision under his pillow, then collapses back into bed. An odd sensation fills him, as it does every time he completes this ritual. It’s like he has taken off every scrap of armour he has and foolishly exposed himself to danger, despite being alone in the stillness of his quarters.

Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling, he closes his eyes and waits for sleep to take him under.

It never does.

#genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #m writes #i can't believe this is finally finished n uploaded... wrow #never thot i'd see this day #i'm nervy posting this ngl it's been. a while since i've written smth like this #hope y'all like it !!!!

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

WPP - Kenny (We’re The Millers)

This has been sitting in my drafts for months and I was struggling to finish it, but, a bright light ascended from the heavens, in the form of an angel, and that angel’s name is @gladerscake

Big thanks to them for helping me out and finishing this imagine. Go follow them and give all the love and support you can muster!

~~~~~~~~~~

Being in the witness protection program was...interesting.

It definitely was not what you were expecting, but then again, you didn’t know helping out a person you cared about would get you involved in a murder, yet here you are.

You had to leave everything behind, not that you had that much of a life to begin with, but it was comfortable. Now, everything was different. New home in a new state, even a new last name. Thankfully, you got to keep your first name, you were grateful for that at least.

You were surprised to find the most annoying thing was the neighbourhood that the program placed you in. It’s like it was made for Mormons or something, your neighbours were too nice, at least the house to the right of yours. You didn’t really know who lived in the house to the left, working from home had the benefit of never going outside and the only reason you knew who lived to your right was cause those neighbours were the type of people to introduce themselves.

Yuck.

But still, you couldn’t help but be a little curious.

You did know, however, that they had only recently moved in since the one morning truck woke up before your alarm rang that morning. You were grouchy the rest of the day, thus you’ve been slightly petty towards your “new” neighbours since then. You definitely needed to work on your attitude...one day.

After being inside your house for more than a week, you decided you wanted some vitamin D, which you rarely ever did so you must’ve been seriously deprived.

You walked out of the door leading to the backyard with a book in hand, frowning when you saw how overgrown the grass was from your laziness. You told yourself you’d do it later, and by later you meant you would mow your yard when you started to hate yourself enough to the point where you felt too guilty leaving it alone.

You huffed as you sat in one of your lawn chairs that you bought when you moved in, lying to yourself that you were going to spend more time outside when you knew you wouldn’t. A first for everything, you supposed.

A few chapters in, you heard a door open and shut in your neighbour’s backyard, but you thought nothing of it, almost too entranced in your book.

You smiled to yourself when you started to hear 1990s R&B playing softly, not your cup of tea but you enjoyed it occasionally. Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls had just started playing when you heard the neighbour’s back door slammed. “Dude, turn that shit off! You’ve been playing that song constantly and I’m actually getting sick of it. God.” You heard an angsty female voice.

Oh no...you lived next a family.

“Hey!”

You flinched, noticing a blonde girl was talking you. “Uh, hey?” You slowly closed your book, reluctantly walking over to the fence separating the backyards when the girl motioned you over.

“Haven’t seen you around before, just move in?” She asked, smirking slightly, looking you up and down.

You mocked her smirk, not liking the almost condescending look she was giving you. “No, been here for awhile. That’s how I know you’ve only just moved in a few weeks ago.”

The girl’s smirk only grew. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Yours?”

“Casey, and that loser is Kenny.” She pointed to the table behind her, seeing a blonde boy sitting somewhat dejectedly in one of the chairs fiddling with a small CD player. “Hey, TLC, get over here!” The boy looked to Casey with a panicked expression, visibly looking like he wasn’t sure if the girl meant it or not. She rolled her eyes, “Come on, dude!”

The boy nodded, frantically walking away to join Casey at the fence. “Hey.” He stuttered, blushing when he noticed your eyes on him.

Casey rolled her eyes yet again. “Yeah, this is Kenny.”

Kenny waved quite adorably, giving you a tight lipped smile. “Did you just move in?”

“No, I-”

“We’ve already had this talk, she’s been here longer than we have.” Casey interrupted, making your blood boil a little bit, her attitude almost worse than yours.

Kenny frowned slightly, but covered it up with a smile. “Oh.”

“Yep. We’ve already become besties.” You said sarcastically, grinning widely, making Kenny genuinely smile a little.

“Kids!” A middle aged man with a stupid haircut, to you anyway, walked over with hesitant look on his face. “Who’s this?”

“Y/N, your neighbour that’s lived here longer than you have. Saved you the trouble of telling him yourself, Casey.” You sneered.

“Oh. Well, I’m David and we’re the Millers! My wife, Sarah, is at the market right now, but I’m sure she’d be glad to meet you sometime.” He smiled widely, making you uncomfortable.

“Uh, dad, chill out. You’re gonna scare away the only girl I find suitable to be friends with in this shit neighbourhood.” Casey whispered harshly.

You didn’t really want to be friends with Casey, you never really got along with girls. Clearly, reading outside was a bad choice...

“Ha ha, if you sass me one more time today, you will be grounded young lady.” David forced another smile.

“Uh, Dad...”

“Shut up, Kenny.”

You quickly realized where the Kenny kid was in the family food chain. It was a shame, the dude was pretty easy on the eyes and seemed nice from what you’ve seen. “Look, I’m just gonna go. Nice meeting you fine folks...” You waved awkwardly, turning around and practically speed walking inside your house.

Well, that was fun...never going outside ever again.

The overall encounter put you in a sour mood, so when the doorbell rang you prayed to god that it wasn’t the yearly check in with law enforcement cause you’d probably get yourself in trouble with that attitude of yours.

You were mildly shocked to see that awkward Kenny guy outside your door, his eyes trained on his feet before you opened the door. “Kenny Miller, right?”

“Uh...yeah, Miller. Uh, I just want to apologize for my, uh, family’s behavior. They don’t have the best of manners, but they’re good people, I swear!” He ranted at such a quick pace that it almost flew right over your head. “So, yeah, sorry.”

You chuckled at his nervousness. “You don’t have to be sorry, especially on the behalf of your family. They don’t seem like the type to appreciate it anyway.”

His eyes widened, holding up his hands and shaking his head. “No, no, no, it’s not like that! They, uh, appreciate me.” You kept your mouth shut, giving him a sympathetic look with a soft smile. He sighed. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“To me, it is. I’ve been in that situation before, so it’s not that hard to notice.”

“Oh...well, they can be nice sometimes I guess.”

“I hope so. Well, it was nice to meet you, Kenny.” You stuck your hand out, smiling when he hesitated but shook your outstretched hand gently.

A week later, you and Kenny actually became friends despite the two of you being almost complete opposites. He was able to poke through your cynical exterior, which was extremely rare for someone to do. He made you laugh, smile, and actually enjoy life when you were with him. You didn’t like it at first, but his adorkable personality won you over.

Kenny was more than overjoyed, he finally had a friend, not one out of pity anyway. The first time you two had hung out, he came “home” with a huge grin on his face. Of course, Casey had to tease him about it all the time.

“I still don’t understand how she can be friends with that loser and not me!” Casey ranted. “It doesn’t make sense!”

“Casey, stop calling Kenny a loser, please.” Sarah sighed, tapping away on her keyboard.

As soon as Sarah said that, Kenny walked through the door with another grin on his face. “Hey, Ma!”

“You don’t have to call me that here, hon.” Sarah voiced, shutting her laptop and walking out of the kitchen, but she smiled to herself.

“Pop your cherry yet?” Casey smirked evilly.

Kenny immediately blushed. “I told you, we’re just friends...”

She rolled her eyes. “You obviously want to be more than just friends with her. You should just ask her out and get it over with.”

“But...Melissa...”

Casey huffed loudly. “Dude, I already told you, she’s probably moved on by now. She was a total babe, she can and probably has done way better than you.”

“Hey...” Kenny frowned, to which Casey just shrugged, her eyes training back to her phone. He sighed as he sat down across from his “sister.” “I do like her...but I don’t know how to bring it up. I’m awful at talking to girls about...that kind of stuff.”

Casey snorted. “Yeah, no kidding.” But she dropped her amused smirk when she saw Kenny glaring. “Sorry, sorry.” She sassed. “I mean, it did work out with the ginger to be fair, but we have to stay in this shithole until further notice. But I really do think you should shoot your shot with what’s her name.”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just-”

“That girl is bad news.” David suddenly voiced, walking into the kitchen.

“What do you mean by that?” Casey asked.

“Uh, hello? Pay attention to your surroundings instead of that stupid phone of yours to see that we are in witness protection. We can’t trust any of these creepy neighbours.”

“Uh, I think you’re a tad bit paranoid, father dearest.”

“Y/N’s really cool though!” Kenny expressed.

David rolled his eyes. “But we don’t really know her, we don’t know if she’s a snitch or something.”

Casey laughed. “Wow, you really are paranoid, dude.”

“Ha ha, very funny, just go to your room and listen to your Metallicas and AC/DCs.”

Casey’s face contorted into a disgusted scowl. “I don’t listen to that garbage.”

“Shut up.” David simply replied, making Casey stand up and storm out of the room and up the stairs. “Look, Ken, I get you like this girl, but you need to be careful. Don’t say things you shouldn’t and all that. You have a tendency to not know when to shut your mouth. So, don’t do that, kay?”

Kenny nodded curtly, avoiding David’s eyes as he felt his face heat up in slight anger. He knew he had some...issues with keeping his mouth shut about things that should be kept a secret, but he grew up, right? He’s not as naïve as he was before they went to Mexico, but his “family” still treated him like he was five. Plus, he knew you weren’t the type to be a snitch.

While Kenny was dealing with feeling underappreciated, you were having your own set of issues to handle. Today was the day for a check up with law enforcement to make sure you were on your best behavior. You always were, but it still made you anxious to no end. And you prayed that Kenny wouldn’t rush in to your house like he got into the habit of doing when you were interrogated.

Of course, that didn’t happen. 

“For fuck’s sake...” You muttered under your breath when you saw Kenny’s shocked and scared face when he saw you sitting with a couple local police officers.

On your end, it just looked like he was scared of police officers. But Kenny’s mind immediately went haywire, thinking that you called them over to investigate them even though the police were already informed of “the Millers” situation. 

“Kenny, now’s not a good time.” You sighed.

“No, no, it’s okay.” The police officer in front of you said. “We’re done here anyway.” He walked out of your house with his partner, leaving you and Kenny in an awkward silence.

“What was that all about?” Kenny asked, not being able to control the bitter tone in his voice. “Did you think we’re that bad or something?”

“Kenny, I-”

“We’ve been doing really well here!” Kenny interrupted. “No problems with anybody, been on our best behavior.”

“Kenny.”

“I don’t wanna go to jail. I can’t go to jail. We’ve only been here for a couple months.”

“Kenny, stop!” You finally yelled, losing your temper. “They were here to check up on me, for fuck’s sake.”

Kenny’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but still had a slight expression of panic. “Here for you? B-But-”

“I’m in witness protection, you dweeb, same as you.”

“Oh...Wait, how did you know I’m in witness protection?”

“Your family,” You finger quoted, “looks nothing like you. All of you don’t look anything alike. How paranoid and secretive that David is, it wasn’t too hard to put things together. You rambling off like an absolute moron a minute ago just reaffirmed my theory.”

Kenny frowned. “Dang, I thought I had worked on that.”

You smiled slightly. “It’s alright, Ken. I’m no snitch, and I’m not very judgmental about someone’s past. What did you even do though? You’re definitely not the type to break the law.” You chuckled.

“Oh, well, we kinda smuggled some drugs across the Mexican border.” He stuttered.

“Holy shit, dude! That’s sick! What was it? Was it coke?” You grinned, eager to learn.

Kenny blinked at your excitement, but obliged to all your questions, sitting down next to you. “No, it was marijuana.”

Your face slightly dropped in excitement. “Oh. I really think weed should be legal. It’s stupid, it’s not even a hard drug.”

“Well, we’re lucky we even made it out alive. But what did you go through to get yourself here?”

Now, you definitely didn’t judge past crimes of others, if they’ve atoned for it and changed that is, but you had no idea if Kenny would judge you. You actually found yourself not wanting him to look at you in a different light, and you’ve never felt that way before. 

Kenny seemed perfectly sweet, almost too sweet to judge anyone, but on the other hand...the stuff that had landed you in the program was definitely heavier than some weed smuggling. 

Maybe it would be too much for him. Maybe it would be best to just make something up, something less horrible, something he wouldn’t be too shocked by.  As tempting as that route felt, the idea of lying to him weirdly didn’t sit well with you, though. 

Kenny was quick to notice the lengthy pause that followed his question, as well as the way your shoulders tensed and your eyes averted to the parquet floor. Oh no. Had he pried into something too personal? Was he an idiot for asking?

“Oh, um...you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to!” Kenny hurried to assure you, slight panic beginning to etch his bluish-green eyes, his fists clenching and unclenching involuntarily. “I was just curious, is all! I’m sorry if it’s too persona-“ 

“It’s okay!” To his surprise, you pulled on a tight-lipped smile, giving him a look as nonchalant as you could manage at the moment. “Really, you don’t have to apologize for asking. Plus, you already told me about your thing, so...” You trailed off, softly, wondering how to proceed. 

As much as you resented the thought of Kenny seeing you differently, you decided even that unpleasant outcome would still be better than lying to him. You’d rather not. You liked Kenny. Despite not having spent a tremendous amount of time together, you could tell he was a genuinely good person, and you definitely enjoyed his company. Not to mention, it would be a blatant lie if you said you weren’t at all attracted to him. 

Casey may have spent most of their interactions calling him a “loser” in some form or another, but you couldn’t be farther away from agreeing with her. A part of you was positively annoyed with the way she treated him. Then again, taste is subjective. It wasn’t Casey’s fault if she didn’t have a good sense of it. 

With a deep intake of air, you nervously flipped a loose strand of hair over your shoulder, still avoiding direct eye-contact with Kenny. “I, uh...It’s a rough one, really. And kind of a long story. I wouldn’t wanna dump something like that on you, if you’d rather not hear it” 

He tentatively pursed his plump lips, but nonetheless nodded for you to keep going. “I’m sure I can handle it! Whatever it is, I’m not gonna judge you, Y/N. I promise!” 

Promise, huh? Guess you were going to have to see about that. 

Trying to ignore the rapidly increasing pace of your heart and slight tremble in your fingers, you began your story. 

You didn’t want to go into too much detail, for the fear of oversharing, but you did tell him as much as you felt you could. About how you used to have a friend...a pretty close friend, who you cared about a great deal, who had always been kind and generous, alas, a bit of a troublemaker.

About how she had fallen in with the wrong crowd, something you admittedly failed to see coming. How that crowd turned out to be a notoriously vicious gang that had it out for some other poor girl, who had apparently slept with one of the gang leaders’ boyfriend without realizing it. 

How that gang, your friend included, lured her onto a rooftop to “fuck with her” and “teach her a lesson.” Only that night, they went too far and ended up pushing her off. The girl died instantly, and due to the heaping pile of evidence, it wasn’t a particularly long investigation. Almost everyone involved were arrested shortly after, and you, having been brought in as one of the witnesses, had a choice whether you wanted to testify against your friend or not. 

At first you weren’t sure if you wanted to do that and make matters worse for her. However, after some much-needed reflection and consideration, you decided it would be the right thing to do. Someone had died, and your friend played a part in it. You couldn’t turn a blind eye to something that big simply because you two were close. 

Your friend was put away, along with several other gang members. Still, quite a few of them were still out there, and they definitely seemed like the type to hold serious grudges. You were no longer safe at your former home, and now...well, there you where. 

Kenny listened intently all the while, not once daring to interrupt, not even to ask a question. By the way your breathing had hitched and your lips had stuttered at certain parts, he could tell how hard that must’ve been for you to go through in the first place, and how unsettling it was for you to revisit those moments in order to share your story with him. 

You didn’t notice, but as you were nearing the end, Kenny had inched to sit closer to you, his large hand carefully landing on your shoulder with a soft but warm-hearted squeeze. He had briefly hesitated in making that move, but the need to offer you comfort and reassurance overpowered his nervousness. His only hope was that you wouldn’t flinch at his touch, and so he felt a huge wave of relief wash over him when you did no such thing. 

“So...that’s about it. Sorry, I know it’s a fucking bummer story, compared to your weed smuggling adventure.” You attempted a chuckle, only it came out as more of a sad scoff. 

Your heart was still pounding and you were still reluctant to look up at him. Although, as you finally noticed Kenny’s warm hand gently squeezing your shoulder, you felt a soothing brush of comfort spread through your limbs, and you couldn’t deny how nice it felt. 

“Whoa...that’s...I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Kenny frowned, unsure of what the right thing to say could be. 

“It’s okay, really. I’ve had some time to process it and move on. Well...not completely, but I’d say I’m doing much better now.” 

Kenny went silent for a minute, clearly still digesting the information, and the worries you had about him looking at you differently came back in full force. You opened your mouth to ask him about it, but he beat you by a millisecond, speaking first. “Why...why were you so nervous about telling me?” 

So he had noticed. Figures. The art of the poker face wasn’t something you’d ever truly mastered. It sometimes annoyed you how easy your anxious state was to spot, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. 

“I don’t know, I...I guess I didn’t want you to see me as a snitch or judge me-“

“Judge you?” Kenny interrupted, sounding confused about the mere insinuation. “For what, not sticking up for your friend when she had got herself involved in a murder?” 

“I mean, she was still my friend, so...” 

“So what? That doesn’t change the fact that she got in the middle of something so horrible, that could’ve been avoided, if she had paid more attention to who she hung around.” 

You couldn’t say you had expected that. It was almost weird hearing Kenny talk that way, but you were definitely relieved to hear where he so firmly stood in regards to the whole “judging you” idea. 

You bit your bottom lip in agitation as a thought you had been wrestling with for a while creeped its way into your mind again. “Sometimes I feel like maybe I could’ve done something...could’ve checked up on her more or somehow stopped her from hanging out with them...maybe I could’ve kept her from having anything to do with it.” Your voice grew quieter, sounding barely above a whisper as guilt flashed through your eyes, your muscles tensing, uneasily, at the thought. Kenny was immediately closer, his arm wrapping around you, as if trying to shelter you from your own thoughts. 

“Come on, don’t do that to yourself, Y/N. You can’t control the actions of others, not even your friends. Least of all your friends, probably.” 

You allowed a small smile to touch the corner of your lips as you instinctively leaned into Kenny, his closeness calming you, his soft reassurances shushing the self-deprecating thoughts he could sense looming over you. 

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess. I just try not to think about it often, it really sucks diving into that stuff.” 

“Of course it sucks. I just hope you know that none of it was even a little bit your fault. From what I can tell after spending some time with you...you’re a really good person, Y/N.” 

You looked up at him, noting the way your faces were only a few inches apart by that point. The close proximity brought a rosy tinge to your cheeks. “You think so?” 

“I do! Why wouldn’t I? You’re smart, you’re funny when you want to be, you’re great to be around, and heck, you’re one of the very few people I know who doesn’t make me feel like I’m constantly doing something wrong.” 

Hearing that made you simultaneously happy and sad. With the way Kenny’s “family” treated him almost around the clock, it was no wonder he felt that way. You wished he didn’t have to. You believed someone as wonderful as him deserved so much better. If only he had at least one person close to him who would tell him how much better he was than most guys out there, how anyone should be lucky to call him a friend... or maybe more than just a friend. 

In that moment, you found yourself thinking what it would be like if you were that person. You imagined it would feel the same way it always did when you were around Kenny, only better. In all honesty, you couldn’t find a single reason not to try. What harm was there in trying? Oh, that’s right...something could go badly wrong, and then whatever friendship you had with him would be in shambles.

That’s what the pessimistic side of you thought about it. But the other side, the more hopeful and affectionate side, had other ideas. 

Even though you and Kenny were brought into the witness protection program by very different circumstances, you were still in it together. You didn’t have to hide your true identities or your past, at least not from each other. That had to count for something, right? 

While you were taking a second to collect your thoughts, Kenny was facing some inner turmoil of his own. With the newfound closeness of the two of you, his cheeks were positively crimson, his pulse quickening, heart thumping against his rib cage. Any doubts he’d had about whether or not he wanted to ask you out had vanished - he absolutely wanted to do that. But how? When? Would now be a good time? He wasn’t sure. Yet, he was very aware of the fact that if he were to lean in just a little bit closer, he could just kiss you right then and there... 

Kenny briefly remembered David’s “count to three” method, but for some reason it didn’t feel right to use. Not with you, not like that. All he wanted was to just go with the feeling, and that feeling was beckoning him to your lips. 

Oh, screw it. If you were to push him away, so be it. He would probably die a little inside and never attempt to do anything like that ever again, but at least he would know your immediate answer. 

“Kenny...?” 

Your soft questioning voice reached his ears as his gaze trailed over your delicate face, taking in every feature, and with a soft but resolute breath, he leaned in. 

Your eyes went wide when Kenny’s lips landed on yours. You froze for a second, not knowing what to do. Luckily, your instantly skipping heart gave you the hint you needed to flutter your eyes closed and melt into it. 

He kissed you so gently, so carefully, but not like he was afraid of scaring you away. More like he wanted you feel completely safe and give you every chance to stop it the second you wanted to. 

You didn’t. 

Instead, you wrapped an arm around his neck, your fingertips brushing the ends of his short sandy hair, your lips moving seamlessly and warmly against his own.

Kenny couldn’t believe you were actually kissing him back, but damn, he was thrilled that you were. He felt the affection in him surge as the softness of your lips put his mind in a haze. His hand timidly slid down to your waist, bringing you closer to him, and you willingly went, deepening the kiss as you did. 

After a few blissful moments you finally broke away from his lips, your noses nearly brushing each other as you looked up at him through glimmering eyes. “I was almost convinced I would have to do that myself...” 

Kenny breathed a soft chuckle, not taking his gaze off of yours. “To be honest, so was I...” 

You grinned at his burning cheeks, releasing a light chuckle of your own before reconnecting your lips for another kiss, swallowing the muted grunt that rumbled from Kenny’s throat. 

Things were going to get better now. For both of you, you were sure of it. Kenny was finally going to have someone who would show him what it’s like to be truly wanted and appreciated, and you were going to have someone who wouldn’t dream of hurting you and who you knew would always do his best to understand you, give you everything he could give. 

Maybe this whole witness protection program thing wouldn’t be such a tedious affair, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks again for helping me @gladerscake​ , you’re the sweetest ❤

#we're the millers #kenny miller #kenny miller x reader #kenny miller imagine

[ejzah]

Can you do a Drabble where Kensi and the team see Deeks with a woman in their day off, causing Kensi to get jealous. The next day back at work, Deeks notices everyone, espicially Kensi acting weird around him. This story is set before Kensi and Deeks got together.

A/N: I may have tweaked the prompt a little bit to suit my purposes.

Rumor Has It

***

“Today really sucked,” Kensi muttered, pressing a cold bottle of Coors to her swollen jaw. It tasted awful, but right now she didn’t really care as long as it was icy and had an alcohol content.9

“Cheer up, Kens,” Callen said, shaking her shoulder reassuringly. “You almost had that guy.”

Kensi shot him a look that said he was not helping at all. They were silent for a couple of minutes while Kensi wallowed in self-pity. Although she knew it wasn’t her fault, it bothered her that she’d struggled to take down a suspect. Even though he was twice her size and trained in martial arts, she was definitely taking it personally.

“It’s too bad Deeks couldn’t make it,” Nell said, clearly trying to draw Kensi out. He’d been the one to step in and taken out their suspect while she lay passed out on the ground.

Kensi had woken up cradled in his arms while he waited for the ambulance to arrive. Her cheeks warmed a little at the memory.

“Yeah, where is your night in shining armor?” Callen teased.

“He said he had something to do at LAPD,” Kensi answered, trying not to let her disappointment show. The last few months something had shifted in their relationship, which was equally terrifying as it was exciting. A little part of her had been hoping to spend the evening at Deeks’ apartment.

“Did Deeks say what he was doing for LAPD?” Sam asked, am odd edge to his tone.

“Um, filing case reports, I think. Why?”

“Because he’s here and the blonde he’s with doesn’t look like any paperwork I’ve ever seen.” Everyone turned as Sam gestured towards the exit with his chin.

Deeks had his back to them, in the process of helping a short woman with her jacket. A little desperately, Kensi tried to think of some explanation to explain it. Then the little blonde rose up on her toes, kissing him more thoroughly that his chivalrous act warranted, and Deeks slid his arm around her waist.

Feeling sick, Kensi glanced down at the beer in her hand, unable to watch anymore.

“I’m sure Deeks has a good reason-” Eric started to say.

“Yeah, clearly he has a girlfriend,” Kensi interrupted, forcing sarcasm into her voice to hide her disappointment and rising anger. “I don’t know why he thought he had to hide her.”

“You want us to have “a talk” with him?” Sam asked darkly.

“Of course not.” Kensi laughed off his offer and downed the rest of her beer. “Deeks is completely free to date whoever he wants.”

“Uh-huh. Well, the offer still stands if you change your mind.”

Deeks forced another smile, raising her finger for another drink.

***

Deeks walked into the bullpen, trying to conceal a massive yawn. It had been after 3 by the time he got home and he was running on fumes.

“Late night?” Sam asked casually, naturally catching the gesture.

“Yeah, LAPD stuff.”

“Really.” Sam nodded, like he really didn’t believe Deeks’ explanation.

Shaking his head, Deeks turned to Kensi, who currently bent over a file. At this angle he couldn’t see more that her forehead. She didn’t look up until he stood right in front of her desk.

“Hey, how’s your jaw? It looked pretty nasty yesterday..”

“Bruised and swollen,” Kensi answered shortly, tilting her chin up so he could see said bruising in all its purple glory. “Gees, I think it looks worse than it did yesterday.” Without thinking, he reached to touch her cheek, but she blocked him with her forearm.

“I’m extremely busy right now, Deeks. So if you could keep the talking and distraction to minimum, that would be great.”

The dismissal was clear in her tone and Deeks dropped his and, reluctantly turned to his desk. As he sat down, Deeks caught Callen’s eye, surprised when he found mild disappointment there.

By afternoon, Deeks had just about enough. Everyone on the team, including Eric and Nell, had been giving him the cold shoulder all day. Although Deeks had a sense that Eric was simultaneously trying to apologize.

As Kensi ignored him for the 12 path time in an hour, Deeks slammed his laptop shut, clearing his throat noisily.

“Ok, what the hell is going on?”

“No idea what you’re talking about, Deek,” Callen said so mildly that Deeks could have punched him.

“Oh come on, Sam’s keeps glaring at me, Eric and Nell are screening my calls, and Kensi, you’re barely talking to me,” Deeks rattled off. “Clearly, something happened.”

“Let’s just say we’re a little surprised by your extracurriculars,” Callen explained, which cleared up absolutely nothing.

“What?”

“Oh my god. We saw you last night,” Kensi blurted out, the anger in her voice, which perfectly matched her glare of apparent disgust. “So you can stop lying.”

“Wait, what exactly did you see?” Deeks asked, worried by the possibility that he had somehow missed the entire team, especially since they weren’t exactly the most subtle of groups when alcohol was involved.

“More than enough. Enough to know that you lied to me about going to LAPD last night.”

“Kens, I can explain-”

“What I saw last night was enough explanation for me,” she interrupted him, standing abruptly. “Now I’m going up to OPS and if you even so much as think of following me, I will try out my new throwing knife on you.”

Deeks stood there for a second, watching her ascend the stairs with barely concealed rage, and turned to Sam and Callen in confusion.

“You guys what to tell me what going on?”

“Not really.” Callen shrugged.

“My only advice is to keep your distance and wear a cup,” Sam suggested.

***

A/N: Part 2?

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #plus team #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

[cloudytamaki]

so, this is how the summer ends • k.denki

⤷ genre: fluff, angst - quirkless au, everyone’s 21, set in LA

⤷ warnings: mentions of sex/implied sex, mildly suggestive, alcohol

⤷ summary: a casual drunk hookup between two young strangers became something ... more than sex.

a warm breeze blows a curl of hair from your forehead and you exhale, corners of your lips lifting into a small smile. it’s almost the end of august; the leaves on the trees are becoming orange and the warm summer winds are cooling down.

the end of an era, and the start of another.

you subconsciously turn your head and look beside you, almost wishing for someone to be there. he isn’t – the cushion of the porch swing is empty. the small smile slips off your lips and your brows furrow; you close your eyes as if the sight’s painful, turning back to watch the trees and sun.

you can’t help the tingling heat that begins to spread through your nose; the promise of tears yet to come.

your mind drifts back to the start of your summer – june 14.

the neighborhood nightclub music is loud, likely booming throughout the area and annoying the neighbors.

but the old neighbors don’t seem to matter as much as the glass of alcohol in your hands and the prickling heat in the back of your skull. there’s a lazy smile sitting upon your lips as you survey the club, taking sips of your drink every few seconds.

ah — there’s your friend, out twerking on the dance floor, getting cheered on by men who are whooping and waving their fists in the air. you cross your legs, the thought of shaking your ass in front of many men seeming unappealing to you.

“hey! can i get another, please?” a golden blonde stranger is suddenly beside you, left arm on the bar counter, a wide grin on his face as sweat runs down his temples.

the bartender sighs, slides him a filled cup, then goes back to cleaning the other glasses with a towel. the energetic looking guy plops down onto a stool beside you, nice white teeth catching the light.

“hey, why aren’t you out dancing?”

your lips flatten into a thin line as you turn to him, “don’t feel like it. it’s nice sitting over here and watching, though.”

“i guess.” he furrows his eyebrows in thought, lips scrunching a bit, “you come here alone?”

“nope.” you sigh, taking a bigger sip this time. “i had a friend come with me, we’d had a few drinks before she’d gone off to the dance floor.” you tiredly gesture towards the crowd, “so yeah. what about you, where’s your friends? you look like you should be over there partying rather than talking to me.”

“they’re all over the club.” he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “some of them didn’t come, others’re just.. around.”

“that makes sense.” another sip and you turn away from the blinding lights, “parties are fun for me, just not when i’m the center of attention.”

“i get that,” he chuckles, takes a sip of his own drink, “i know a guy exactly like that. 8:30 pm bedtime, 6:30 wake up.”

“are you serious? 8:30? i go to bed around 12.”

“yeah, i know right? he’s super strict on it too, we all make fun of him.”

“damn, that sounds fun.” you exhale before taking a bigger sip, the burn of the alcohol stinging a trail down your throat. “you have a name?”

he laughs at that, running a hand through his golden tufts, “denki kaminari, pleased to meet you, madam.” he jokingly places a kiss against your fingers and you let out a squeal of surprise, laughing as you pull your hands away from him.

“(y/n) (l/n), pleased to meet you too, denki kaminari.” you nod at him, drinking the last of your empty glass.

you both ask the bartender for more, and when you both stumble on your words in fear of interrupting each other, you decide to go against each other in a drinking challenge – five shot glasses filled with the second strongest liquor on the shelf.

you manage to down four glasses, determination the only thing keeping you going at this point; your cheeks are hot from the alcohol, brain fuzzy, surroundings beginning to blur every few seconds.

“y-you good?” denki doesn’t look all that good either. shit, he looks terrible – happy, but terrible nonetheless. five empty glasses are at his side and his golden eyes are focused on you.

“yeah, i’m fine.. round two?” you give him a challenging smile and he pouts, pushing out his lower lip as he asks the clearly tired bartender for more, once again.

you crack your knuckles and take a deep breath, picking up the first shot glass as you look at denki, nodding at the same time. you bring it to your lips and suck all the liquid down, almost feeling its burn in your spine when it goes down your throat.

another shot glass, then another – before you know it, you’re swaying on your feet like an idiot, brain spinning, muscles loose. you glance towards denki and you wonder why you’d let yourselves get so inebriated.

“damn, that was fun!” he’s slurring on his words and you bring a hand to your head, sighing.

“jesus christ, i need to sit down.” you both stagger towards a staircase, not caring about how idiotic you look while doing so.

you’re about to pop the dreaded question—how’re we getting home?—when he speaks instead, tilting his head back with a yawn-sigh.

“i’m horny.”

and that’s when you really notice something about him; his jawline is sharp and young, his lips pink and parted, his skin flushed from the drinks, his golden eyes piercing.

you find yourself saying something you’d never imagined would leave your lips, “i can help with that.”

“really? you?” he turns his head towards you and points to you almost accusingly.

you shrug, “i think it was the drinks, but yeah, me. don’t wanna pass up a good offer.”

he seems to think about it while you take a quick look at your phone. “11:48 pm – you stay horny or not, your choice.”

“okay.” denki does some jazz hands and you roll your eyes, “sure. i think there’s some upstairs rooms over here.” you both stand and turn, ascending up the stairs, deciding to walk into a decent looking room.

“so ...” you stand there awkwardly, surroundings spinning but you manage to look over to denki, who’s equally confused. “you said you were horny.”

“and you said you could fix that.” the both of you are standing there, looking at each other, not fully knowing what to do, so you decide to get the ball rolling.

walking over to him, you begin to plant kisses along his jaw and down his neck. he lets out a small whine when you pull away, but you’re feeling more confident when you look at him again.

“kiss me.”

you almost laugh at your confidence that night; you started off sitting alone with a cup of alcohol, not even planning to get drunk – where the fuck did that even come from?

a cooler breeze hits your skin this time, carrying the scent of nearby cooking. smells like some sort of pie, you guess, rubbing your hands over your thighs in remembrance of that drunken hookup. deciding to go inside, you slide off the porch swing, walking over to the back door, twisting the knob and heading inside.

the elevator comes surprisingly fast when you push the button; stepping in, you punch in the number five and wait as you’re lifted above all the other floors.

you take out your keys and step out of the elevator when it dings, walking down the hall to your door, inserting the keys and walking inside.

it’s cold, as expected.

sighing, you toss your keys onto the counter and open the cabinets, rooting around for some food. you come out with a packaged ramen cup; you open it and fill it up with water, then pop it into the microwave.

you lean against the stove as you wait; two minutes and the microwave beeps, you take out your hot food and grab a spoon, walking over to the kitchen table, switching on a light.

you eat alone, in silence.

“oh shit!” you practically throw yourself out of the twin-sized bed; your bare ass is on the cold floor and you’re frantically gathering as much of the sheet as possible, pulling it against your naked chest.

from the other side of the mattress, there’s a girlish scream and a head of golden blonde hair pops up, amber eyes wide with surprise and panic.

“who are you?” your hand comes up to your forehead to ease the pounding in the back of your head. “wait.” something clicks and some tension leaves your shoulders as you point at him, “aren’t you that kid from last night?”

“i’m 21, thank you very much.” he scoffs in disbelief, “how do you not remember me? you were literally moaning my—”

“okay!” you cut him off quickly, cheeks warming up in embarrassment as your brows furrow, “i ... drank too much.”

“same here.” he stands up, unintentionally putting himself on display, “where are we? i can’t remember going—”

“denki!” you practically scream, shielding your eyes, “please put some damn pants on!”

“sorry.” you hear some movement and rustling before the sound of a zipper, “there. what about you? you’re naked too.”

“i know, give me a minute...” you look around and locate your underwear and jeans. you slip them on, clasping your bra and throwing on your shirt.

you stand up, face to face with denki; his neck is spotted with love bites, his hair tousled, cheeks a light pink. “we.. should probably get going.” you grab your dying phone and check the time, “oh my god, it’s 10:15, i’m late for work.”

“you work on saturdays?” your relax at the question, exhaling in relief.

“no, not on saturdays. i thought it was friday or something.” you laugh but a stab of pain shoots from your head all the way through your body.

“how much did we drink last night?” you turn to the golden blonde, who sighs as he opens the door.

“i have no idea, i was gonna ask you. but we drank something strong.”

“i’m surprised we didn’t puke.” you both walk down the staircase, surprised to find that the club’s empty; pretty sunrays peek through the windows and dust floats in the air around you.

“well, i didn’t, but you did.” denki’s hand is at the back of his neck and he turns away from you in embarrassment, shuddering.

you cringe at what he’s insinuating, closing your eyes for a brief second. “um.. i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine,” he feels kind of weird asking, “where are you going?”

“well, i was planning on heading to my apartment, which you don’t typically do with a one-night stand, but i guess i can make an exception for you.”

“i’m getting special treatment? i’m flattered.”

you roll your eyes as you open the door, squinting when the sun hits your face, “it’s the least i can do in exchange for the fun last night.”

denki bursts out into laughter, wiping faux tears from his eyes while you stand there, watching him. when his laughs finally slow down and he’s standing upright again, you elbow him in the ribs.

“looks like we’re gonna be walking a few blocks. we’d better hurry before it gets hot.”

“you don’t have a car?”

a glare from you is enough of an answer for him.

you throw the empty cup into the garbage, the spoon into the sink. you walk into your bedroom and water your plants on the windowsill, wishing that night would come fast.

it’s only 6:52 pm, and the sun sets at 7:30. before, time never felt so slow – probably because you had someone to spend it with. 

your lips pull into a frown and you place the green watering can back on the windowsill, huffing out a sigh. when had you gotten so damn lonely?

the second week of knowing denki and you’re holding onto his hand tightly as you walk through the dark field, ignoring his protests of ‘it’s dark!’ and ‘what if there’s wolves out here?!’

“calm down already! look, we’re almost there!” you point ahead and he shrieks.

“but there’s no light! seriously, we’re gonna get eaten by wolves or maybe even hawks!”

“jesus christ, denki. there’s no wolves out here, and hawks can’t grab us.” you aren’t fully sure about the wolves, but it’s just a white lie.. that he doesn’t need to know.

“are you sure?”

you stop, turning to him, looking him directly in the eyes. “come on, have some faith in me.”

denki slowly nods, visibly relaxing. you keep walking; it’s silent for the next few minutes, and eventually you finally come to a stop in an area where you can perfectly see the moon.

“why’d we stop?”

he stands before you, watching curiously as you grab a branch and wink at him.

“just watch.”

slowly, you sweep the branch over the grass, and fireflies rise in the air around you. a faint buzz fills the air as they float around you both; you sit down beside him.

denki’s eyes are half-wide in appreciation, lips parted. he turns his head to you, voice much calmer than it was earlier. “it looks.. magical.”

he was right, it did look quite magical that night. you check the time on your phone, 7:05 pm – just a little longer, you can make it.

placing the phone on your chest, you sigh as you close your eyes, letting your mind wander again.

“uhh, i don’t know about this...” this time you’re the one who’s hesitant to do something with him, worry consuming your mind as you sit on the side wall of the apartment.

“come on, you can do it! just glide.” denki excitedly holds a hand out to you and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth in worry, but you reluctantly nod and grab it.

his hand’s warm and soft when he pulls you up onto your feet, flashing you his all too familiar grin. “you’ll be fine, i’ve got you.”

your skin warms at his words and you decide that rollerskating with him is worth the effort. “okay.. so you just go forwards and gently push off each time?”

“pretty much, look.” he demonstrates proudly, you give him some applause before copying his exact movements, and surprisingly, you don’t fall.

“there you go! okay, come on, i wanna show you somewhere cool i found earlier!” he grabs your hand and skates forward so quickly you panic, unable to do anything else but glide with him.

“oh my god, don’t go so fast! you’re gonna run into a streetpole!”

“no, i won’t, i’ll be fine! come on, i think you’ll like the boba place i found!”

you open your eyes, checking your phone again – 7:32, just in time for the sunset. you get off your bed and start to walk out of your room, but a red gleam catches your eye – you turn to see the red rollerskates you wore with denki.

ignoring the pang in your heart, you grab a jacket and head out of your apartment, locking the door behind you before heading into the elevator.

you’re heading to the highest floor; up there, you’ll be able to get to the roof.

after punching in number eight, you lean against the wall, looking at your hands. a ding alerts you that you’ve arrived; you step out of the elevator and open the door at the end of the hall, walking up the small metal staircase – finally, you’re here.

you don’t make any moves to sit; that’s something new. instead, you stand on the roof, hands in your pockets as you watch the swirling plethora of colors dissolve into darkness in front of you.

“how long have you been living here?” denki shakes his head, droplets of water hitting your skin and you release a small laugh, stepping away from him.

“about four years or so.. it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“yeah, it is. it’s.. always awake, you know?”

“oh yeah,” you chuckle, understanding what he means about the city, “always. there’re cars going at 3 in the morning all the time. so many places are open to eat, it’s nice they cater to people’s late night cravings.”

“true.” he looks up at the leafy branches in thought, “i like citylife. it’s kinda boring if everything’s slow paced and sleepy.”

the rippling lake water catches the sunlight, glittering in the late afternoon sun. the field’s light green and grassy, all flat except for the few lone apple trees that dot its surface.

“sometimes you have to step away from the city to really enjoy nature.” you stand up and grab a red apple off a lower branch, taking a bite and offering it to him.

“they’re sweet, y’know.”

denki gives a huff, “i know what apples taste like.” he bites into the fruit, humming at its taste. he hands it back to you and you take another bite, savoring the fresh, crisp taste.

you sit down beside him, tilting your head back to look up at the different branches above you. your hair’s still damp from the swimming, your skin dewy with droplets of water.

“should we go back in?” you question, looking out towards the lake.

“only if we’re skinny dipping.”

“it’s.. light out. you’re supposed to go in the dark.”

“so?” denki grabs your hand and brings you up, “come on, it’ll be fun!”

you lay back with a sigh, arms crossed behind your head as you stare up at the cloudy night sky, unable to see any constellations due to the clouds and city light.

the moon peeks out from behind the clouds, almost shy to reveal its full light.

a rush of sadness fills your chest and you move your feet, not wanting to remember the particularly painful memory made right here.

“you’ve been silent all night, denki. what’s up with you?” his hand finds yours and gives it a squeeze.

“i’m sorry.”

“for what?”

“for not telling you something i should’ve told you sooner.. i’m heading back to japan tomorrow.”

you don’t respond but your heartbeat quickens as you look up at the sky. “why are you going to japan, denki?”

“because.. i live there. i come here every summer from the beginning of june to the end of july with some friends.”

“so you won’t be able to...” your voice fades in realization.

“we can call and text! we both have phones, right?” he’s trying to be cheery.

“it’s not the same,” you say, voice suddenly strained, “you’re.. what, sixteen hours ahead of me? it wouldn’t work, it’d be inconvenient for both of us.”

“here, i have an idea. give me your phone.” he hands you his, which is open to the ‘create a new contact’ page; you do the same, now sitting up.

you type in your phone number and a small note, then hand it back to him.

denki seems quite invested in his typing; it takes him a few good minutes before he’s finished. “don’t open the note ‘til i’m gone, okay?”

it seems you’d never opened it. why not? you take out your phone to open it, reliving your last memory.

“call me, okay?” denki’s grinning again, giving you a tight hug before getting on the plane. you’re wondering why he’s so happy – it’s a facade, of course. smiling always fends off the tears, right?

when he’s about to pull away, he realizes how you’re not letting go, head buried in his neck. “denki, be safe. don’t forget anything on the plane, okay?” your voice is light and you’re trying to joke with him, but he can sense that unsteadiness.

he hugs you tighter, tears forming in his eyes. “i love you.”

a weak sob escapes your lips and the tears start rushing out of your eyes. “i love you too, please be careful.”

you hadn’t spoken to him since that morning – three weeks ago. why hadn’t you stayed in touch?

the note opens and you immediately read it, tears welling up in your eyes.

‘to y/n, the most amazing girl i’ve ever met.. i’ve enjoyed it all, from the most awkward morning of my life to the first time i’ve ever gone up on a roof with someone. it’s been really fun, i’m going to miss this. i get it if you don’t wanna stay in touch; it’s too painful sometimes, you know? but aside from our adventures, i’ve really enjoyed bonding with you as a person. you’re funny, sarcastic, and all around amazing. i love you - see you next summer.’

he was right in his message; it is too painful to stay in touch sometimes. you exit the contacts list, wiping at your eyes and smearing your makeup as you open the messaging app, beginning to type out a message,

hey, i miss you.

taglist // @sobaluvr​ @bbytamaki​ 

#3.5k words - longest oneshot i've ever written #denki kaminari #denki x reader #denki x you #denki x y/n #denki fluff #denki angst #denkixreader #bnha x reader #bnha angst #bnha fics #bnha oneshot #denki kaminari imagine #denki kaminari x reader

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Crossover Episode 1 Part 3

Hey, once again, Crossover time, with your host, me! Everybody clap your hands!!!

Lightning crashed, and thunder rumbled outside the ominous spire of stone and lost hope that was the Conformatorium. As Luz took in the sight before her, she turned a flat stare towards the smirking Witch next to her. “What was that you said about this place being super fun?”

Ignoring Eda’s chuckle, Luz panned her vision across the area, giving herself a rough idea of the layout for the building, before her eye caught on a poster tacked to a nearby wall. Walking up to it, she yanked it down to see an artistic representation of Eda and King, complete with Bounty. She let out a low whistle at the figure. “Wow, these guys really got the hots for you.”

“Yeah, but they’ve never caught me.” Eda preened with pride, deftly stuffing the flyer into her hair. “King’s got some moves of his own when it comes to giving people the slip.”

“Yeah! Just try and catch me when I’m greased,” King cheered, eager to talk about his skills. “I’m a squirmy little fella!”

“Heh, I’ll take your word for it.” Luz grinned.

Eda smirked, gesturing for Luz and King to come in closer. “Alright, I’ll make a distraction to keep Wrath and his goons preoccupied. You two will make your way to the Vault from above.” She paused to conjure up a platform, the transport they would use to ascend. “I’ll do my best to keep Wrath and the Guards from getting to you, but for that to work, I’ll need you guys to keep your heads down in there. Can I count on you?” She turned a solemn face towards Luz at her question.

Luz made a small show of mulling it over, before grinning brightly. “Don’t worry about it. This isn’t my first time sneaking around somewhere I’m not supposed to be, after all.”

“Ugh, enough with the emotions, let’s just go already!” King complained, eager to get inside.

With a huff of amusement, Luz leapt onto the platform, scooping up King with an indignant squawk, before signalling Eda to send them up. As Luz rose through the air, she calmed the giddy excitement bubbling up inside, letting her face and emotions go blank. She needed to focus, to prepare herself for the fight her instincts were SCREAMING was coming their way.

As the platform reached its apex, just short of the window they needed to get to, Luz dully noted, she once more picked up King, this time with only a slight grumble of protest, and launched them both upwards. As they soared through the window, Luz caught herself in a three-point landing, fist planted in front of her chest, legs spread to catch her weight, a practically superhero-esque look… and then King slammed into the ground next to her with a grunt.

Chuckling sheepishly, Luz pulled the small demon up. As they walked towards their goal, Luz couldn’t help but marvel at the interior; this place may have been an evil den of corrupt tyranny, but she couldn’t deny the place was stylish, in a “step out of line and get wasted” sort of way. One thing that bothered her, though, was how empty it was. Luz had been around the block more than once, and she was fully aware of how much crime could get up to in any civilization, especially one that cared more about preserving things a certain way than helping the people, so the sheer barrenness of the cells was… unsettling to see.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Hey King, where are all the prisoners?”

“Weh? I don’t know. Why do you ask?” King replied. He wouldn’t openly admit it, but he was kind of weirded out by how empty this place was himself.

Luz’s curious look gained a more serious edge. “Because, no prison, whether the prisoners deserve to be in it or not, should be this level of empty unless it’s abandoned.” Luz’s scanning of the surroundings gained a hint of nervousness at that point. “I just can’t shake the feeling that something bad goes on here. You know, besides the whole “imprisoning for failure to submit to societal norms” thing.” Her frank bluntness would’ve been funny, if the situation hadn’t been so grim.

King glanced around, now feeling far more nervous about being here. “Now that you mention it, a lot of people get dragged here, but you don’t really hear much about them afterwards…”

“Hey kid, how did you get out of your cell?”

Turning their heads in surprise, both King and Luz were mildly surprised to find actual prisoners ahead of them. The one who had called out, a Witch-girl with dusky skin, two prominent canines that bordered on fangs, and an almost sleepy look to her, was beckoning them closer. It made sense, no one liked being in prison, and Luz’s gut wasn’t giving her any warnings about her. So, with that in mind, Luz sidled up to the bars.

Luz cleared her throat. “Not a prisoner actually, also, not technically a criminal.” She ignored King’s shout of ‘Not Yet Your Not!’ “Mind if I ask how you all ended up in a dump like this?” Okay, maybe it was cheesy, but Luz wasn’t gonna not ask how a group ended up in prison; what other time would she get the opportunity?

The prisoner chuckled, a bitter sound, the type you hear from someone who doesn’t really expect to be happy ever again and is just going through the motions. “Never thought someone would have the time or desire to ask me that. I got stuffed in here for writing stories about food falling in love with each other.” She held up a notebook with an image of two vegetables kissing on the open page. “And I know you didn’t ask, but the name’s Katya. You’re the first person to actually care about me in a long while.”

“Same with the rest of us.” Commented the prisoner next to the now-named Katya, a pale-blue fellow with multiple eyes. “I got put in here for eating my own eyes.” He then demonstrated, preempting Luz’s question, popping out one of his eyes, swallowing it whole, and then regrowing it perfectly. It was as fascinating as it was disturbing.

A muffled thumping came from the last occupied cell. Turning to it, Luz saw a small, white, ball-shaped creature that seemed to be a head with arms and legs sticking out of it. A cloth gag was tied tight over what Luz assumed was its mouth, the thumping coming from the creature slamming against things as it furiously clawed and yanked at the gag.

Turning a questioning stare to the others, Luz asked, “What’s going with that one?”

Katya snorted, a tired humor in her eyes. “Yeah, she’s big on conspiracy theories. She ended up annoying the guards so much they gagged her to keep her quiet. Which I thought was kinda lame, she had some fun stuff to say. Also, she really dislikes the government, which probably didn’t help her either.”

Luz was furious. No, scratch that, she was beyond furious. She was so angry, all she could show was calm. King could physically feel the rage seeping off of her. Speaking in a voice so coldly furious, Luz bit out. “So, what you’re telling me, is that you guys haven’t actually committed any crimes, and got thrown in here for being different?”

Katya let out a sad sigh. “Pretty much kid. Wrath really likes throwing anyone he considers “unsuitable” for society in here. And we happen to fit his definition of unsuitable.” She gave a soft grin towards the still irate human. “But hey, at least we got the chance to tell someone, right? Not many get that chance.”

Luz hyper-focused on that last part, instantly trying to process that statement alongside her concerns from earlier. “What do you mean by that?”

Katya gave an ominous stare. “A lot of people come into this place, but it isn’t much of a prison. It’s more a waystop before they get shipped off to the Emperor’s Castle; whatever goes on in there, we don’t know, but some people come out, utterly broken… and others don’t come back at all. Because so few people are actually here at any time, there aren’t many guards, but considering how tough Wrath himself is, it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

Luz's blood ran cold. The details may have been sparse, but what little she had been given painted a rather… ugly picture. There was no way she could leave these guys here. Glancing around, she spotted the lever that would release the cells (she honestly wondered how she missed it at first), and started tugging on it. At the slight motion of the heavy piece of metal, Luz was torn between frustration at how slow-going it was, and satisfaction at being able to move it at all. Just as she felt she was making progress, she paused, the sharp rumbling of heavy footfalls approaching in their direction.

“What are you fools yammering about?”

The voice that spoke was sinister, rumbling, and had a grating edge to it that set every nerve in Luz’s body on fire. Just as the figure was about to enter visual range, Luz gave a leap, clinging to the shadow-cloaked walls above. The amazement the prisoners felt at watching her feat was quickly squashed as the source of the voice pulled into view. A hulking, muscular figure, what little of his body could be seen having a purple tone to it. His body was clad in a white tunic, a triangular badge displayed proudly across his chest; the plague doctor-like mask sent chills up Luz’s spine. There was no doubts, this was the infamous Warden Wrath.

The Warden loomed over his prisoners, an almost palpable ruthlessness bleeding off of him. Glancing down, he spotted what he assumed was the topic of their discussion. “Ah.” He pulled up what Luz could see was a copy of that same wanted poster of Eda she had seen before. “The Owl Lady.” He brutally crushed the paper in his grip. “She escaped me before, but soon, she will be within my grasp.”

Alarm bells began ringing in Luz’s head, and as she looked down and saw King, hidden in the dark corners of one of the cells, the blind panic in his eyes made it clear he felt that fear too. Suddenly a sharp gasp drew their attention. “Aiw!!! I can bweathe again!!” It was the last prisoner, having finally managed to work the gag off of her face. Refocusing on the present, the tiny inmate began a tirade at the sight of Wrath. “The voices of independence cannot be silenced!! We will suwvive, we will enduwe, we will cast off ouw oppwessows!! We will neveh be afwaid of you, you big old cweep!!!”

Speech impediment aside, Luz couldn’t help but feel impressed at the courage it took to speak your true feelings, even in such a bleak situation. That admiration turned to dread, however, when she saw the Warden move towards the lever to the cells. While he didn’t see her, she could feel the air hum around him as he easily lifted what she struggled to even budge.

As the doors to the cells opened, the smallest prisoner gasped in delight. “Hooway, I’m fwee!” Eager to take advantage of her apparent freedom, the conspiracy theorist took off like a bullet, only to be effortlessly snagged by Wrath. As Wrath ruthlessly pulped the prisoner in his hand, the resulting squeak more menacing than humorous as he laughed over it, he calmly stated something that would forever infuriate Luz, even years later: “Remember, there is no place for you in society if you can’t fit in.”

As Wrath wandered off, to where Luz didn’t care, still clutching and tormenting the small prisoner, Luz leapt down as silently as she could, King rushing to join her. As she opened her mouth, hoping to say something, Katya raised a hand to stop her. The light that had been in her and the other prisoner’s eyes? It was gone, that little spark of hope had been snuffed out. Still, Katya tried to pull off a smile. “Just go kid. Go and enjoy freedom for us.”

Luz and King traded sad looks, before walking off. King, he didn’t know what to do with this. He was used to feeling unstoppable, weakened form notwithstanding, so feeling… bad for someone was new to him; he didn’t like it. Luz, she was angry, furious, apoplectic, basically every word you could use to describe being angry she was feeling right now. Before everything happened, she was used to feeling like an outsider, like people didn’t want to be around her because she was different from everybody else, but even at her lowest, she was never made to feel as if being herself, that being weird, was unacceptable on par with the worst of crimes. Luz knew one thing; when this heist was over, she was going to bring this place crashing to the ground.

As Luz and King mulled over their conflicted emotions, Eda ran up, a mischievous grin stretched across her face. “Alright gang, the Warden’s distracted tormenting some tiny creature and- what’s with the long faces?” Her grin wiped itself away at the depressed aura surrounding the two.

Luz turned a nervous eye towards Eda. “Hey, Eda? How often do people get sent to this place?”

Eda blinked, a little confused at the question. “Fairly regularly, at least once a week I’d say. Why do you ask?”

Luz gulped, not liking what she was about to say. “Well, how often do people come back out? And, if people come here so often, why are there so few prisoners?”

Eda paused, considering the question. As the possible answer, or answers, dawned on her, she grew grim, face pale. “Okay, yeah, that’s something I hadn’t thought about before. We need to get that crown, and get out of here as soon as possible.”

Luz nodded, a look of concentration upon her face. “Yeah. We overheard the Warden earlier, and the way he was talking? I think this may be a trap to lure you here.”

Eda blinked at that, then facepalmed. “Ugh! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that! Well, we better make this quick then.”

King piped up at that. “Then we better get going! The sooner we get my crown, the sooner Wrath stops being our problem!” With that said, he stomped towards a pair of very impressive doors.

#the owl house #owl house au #fairy tail #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #king the owl house #katya the owl house #tiny nose the owl house #warden wrath

[jbuffyangel]

The Good and the Bad: Arrow 8x09 Review (Green Arrow & the Canaries)

Arrow did another backdoor pilot for the spin-off even though 7x16 felt like one, 

but it’s clear from this episode things have been… retooled. 

Not always for the better. I liked Green Arrow and The Canaries more than I disliked it, but I’m an easy sell. If Olicity’s progeny are available via my television then I’m watching. Period. End of discussion. 

There’s good content for the writers to mine, but there’s definitely some kinks to work out.

Doing things a little different with this review. Yes, I can change. 

It didn’t feel like a fully fleshed out episode and I have a feeling we’ll be repeating this pilot in some form if Green Arrow and The Canaries is greenlit, so for now we’ll just hit the highlights – the good and the bad.

Let’s dig in…

What I Loved

This is the first episode immediately after Crisis, so we don’t entirely know how the present day is impacted, but the future certainly is bright. Mia and William have grown up in an almost paradise. Star City is the safest city in the country. There’s been no crime for almost twenty years and it’s all thanks to the city’s hero – Oliver Queen.

Source: feilcityqueen 

It’s nice to see Oliver being honored years later by the ungrateful twats of Star City. They are slightly less ungrateful in my eyes. However, it’s even more wonderful to see that Oliver’s children grew up safe, protected, and maybe even a little pampered. It’s everything he wanted for them. 

The big stick with this carrot of course is Oliver not being able to raise William and Mia.

Mia Smoak is the princess we were promised and she is ready to ascend the throne. I loved everything about her character. 

Source: kathmcnamara 

The alternate timeline/universe (?) has softened Mia. There’s no anger. No dark and twisty past. No hatred of vigilantes. No resentment over lies and betrayals. 

Mia knows her father was a hero, but she hasn’t grown up hiding out in a cabin with Felicity. Instead she grew up with William in the Queen Mansion (where she currently resides). On the surface, Mia’s life has been pretty friggin perfect, even if she’s a little adrift. That said, the Grand Canyon sized hole in her life is that her dad is gone.

Source: oliverxfelicity

Mia blissfully wakes 

Source: kathmcnamara

and is proposed to by… JJ DIGGLE!

Source: kathmcnamara 

We have a scantily clad naked Diggle boy and he’s already dropping down on one knee. This show is my crack.

This also means JJ Diggle isn’t evil! Plot twist!! Dun dun DUNNN!!!

Source: kathmcnamara 

Mia says yes after a brief hesitation and the DIGGLE BROTHER LOVE TRIANGLE HAS COMMENCED. I know I’m the only person who wants this love triangle, but I don’t care. 

JJ is the “good” brother and Connor isn’t “evil” but he seems like a colossal screw up with questionable facial hair. 

But also maybe I like the facial hair? 

It’s clear he has an adversarial relationship with Mia, but so many romances have been born from loathing. Enemies to lovers is a classic trope. I’m all in.

Of course, we’re supposed to expect Connor in Mia’s bed since the Season 7 flash forwards more than hinted at a brewing romance between the two, 

but instead it is JJ. A plot twist the Olicity fandom called ages ago.

John Jr. is new and improved though. There isn’t much to dislike about this version of him. He’s kind, sweet, sexy, attentive and pulling out expensive jewelry in the first five minutes. What’s not to love? There’s a smol and tol aesthetic happening too. Everyone knows that’s my shipping jam.

Things immediately get rocky though (pun intended). First, JJ gives Mia the Queen family engagement ring. 

Source: arrowdaily 

Mia makes a point of saying it was her mother’s which gives me the feels. 

I never had the same issues with Moira’s engagement ring others did, but even I can recognize there’s some bad juju in it

Next, Mia gets her memories back (more on THAT later) and officially remembers her fiancé was a psychopathic killer who ran one of her friends through with the pointy end of a sword. It’s a little difficult to kiss JJ after that visual. 

Things don’t get much easier after Mia accuses JJ of being the mastermind behind Bianca Bertinelli’s kidnapping. (Yes, she’s Helena’s daughter). He’s not the kidnapper. All his secrecy revolves around the honeymoon JJ is planning. It does lead to a truly hilarious moment between the two characters. 

JJ: Jumping to conclusions is I’m cheating on you not that I’m a kidnapper. For the record, I’m neither.

It’s a heavy moment, but I died. It’s going to be a little hard to pick out cake now.

The scene itself is heartbreaking. Charlie and Kat acted their asses off in it too. JJ thinks Mia doesn’t want to marry him. She hesitated before accepting his proposal (Yes, he noticed that Mia. So did I). JJ believes Mia is commitment phobic. It’s not wildly unlike how Oliver’s story began. Thank God there’s no cheating with siblings though.

Mia is merely struggling with the idea that her fiancé was a cold blooded killer in another world. She just needs some time to… adjust. She’s also a little commitment phobic. After stopping the real bad guys, Mia reassures JJ, but she doesn’t tell him the truth about who she is.

Mia: I couldn't imagine spending my life with anyone else."

I see your not-so-subtle wink at SmoakNHawke writers. I AM SO HERE FOR THIS.

The truly awesome moment with JJ’s character is when he gets his memories back too. I was not expecting this and was genuinely surprised. Charlie Barnett is a PHENOMENAL actor. He played that scene perfectly. 

Giving JJ his memories back is a stroke of genius because now he's a more complicated villain (I hope). He gets to struggle with his love for Mia and his loony tune desire to take over the city. 

Katherine McNamara also does a fantastic job of blending the two versions of Mia after she gets her memories back. 

Source: supercanaries 

She’s reeling from the suffering and loss, but Mia is still our bad ass princess who takes no crap. 

Source: oh-my-hades

She is still every bit the hero Oliver and Felicity raised her to be.

Source: feilcityqueen 

She’s just a little more pragmatic. Her communication skills are much improved. One of the best moments of the episode is when she gets to show up L*urel with her “new” experience.

Source: supercanaries

Mia telling L*urel where to stick it was a long time coming. We had to wait twenty five minutes for it to happen, but it was GLORIOUS when it did. 

Source: arrowversedaily 

William is a perfect cupcake, excited to be Mia’s man of honor, but bummed his boyfriend cheated on him. We hate Kevin. 

Source: arrowdaily 

He encourages Mia to join Smoak Tech, but she’s not sold on joining Mama’s company. William running Felicity’s company fills me with a deep and abiding joy.

William Clayton-Harris-Smoak-Queen is perfection from start to finish. 

Source: oliverxfelicity 

The chemistry between Ben and Kat is so natural. William’s good natured teasing about their “family heirloom” exuded warmth and love. 

Source: feilcityqueen 

I adore how comfortable the two characters are now. Erasing William and Mia’s separation is the best thing to come out of Oliver’s Crisis retcon.

ZOE IS ALIVE because I said she would be and I like to get my way.

Source: oliverxfelicity 

Din*h owns a bar (Thea’s old club) and lives in the apartment upstairs (Thea and Olicity’s old loft).  

Source: canarynetwork 

She woke up in the future after Oliver’s funeral and discovered she doesn’t exist in 2040. I’m only mildly curious about this. The bigger shock is Din*h is tolerable. She’s compassionate towards Mia and often serves as the peace maker between her and L*urel. She feels like an older and wiser Din*h Dr*ke. More like Season 5 Din*h, but not so angry.  

Also, hello that voice? She can be like Lorne on Angel and randomly break out into show tunes.  Juliana did a beautiful job.

E2 Oliver cheated on L*urel with Sara too. There is no universe where L*urel & Oliver end up together. Nobody hates L*uriver more than these writers.

What I Hated

L*urel. I hated everything about L*urel. 

At first, I thought I was being too sensitive, but after a certain point it was clear she is just an asshole. L*urel being unbearable in Arrow pilots is a tradition apparently.

It starts with how Mia gets her memories back. There were some spoilers out on this, but I wasn’t entirely sure how it would play out onscreen and yeah… total dick move. 

Source: supercanaries 

L*urel destroys Mia’s life by forcing unbelievably painful memories on her without discussing it with her first. And for what? So, Mia can help L*urel find her kidnapped friend. 

Even the newspaper article L*urel drops about the Green Arrow failing the city doesn’t excuse the way she gave Mia her memories back. I understand she is trying to convince Mia to be a superhero, but I feel a more effective approach would have been to sit down, grab a cup of coffee, offer the pros and cons of getting her memories back and then let MIA DECIDE.  

Source: supercanaries 

L*urel didn’t need to grab her from behind at her graduation/engagement party.  It had the uncomfortable vibe of mind rape and no amount of “girl power” makes that okay.

Oh hey - if  J'onn J'onzz from Superg*rl is going around and zapping people’s minds without clearing it with them first - 

What was with L*urel insulting Mia every two seconds? UGH. Where is that damn bird baton?

There’s a fine line between snark and nasty. L*urel was just nasty.

L*urel decides Mia is a lazy, self absorbed, idiot because she’s not immediately jumping at the chance to be the Green Arrow. She literally blew this kid’s life apart, gives her no time to process, and immediately begins insulting her because she’s not following all of L*urel’s commands.

On what planet does L*urel have any authority over Mia's life? 

They have a warm and fuzzy heart to heart about choosing to be a hero to smooth over L*urel’s wildly unpleasant personality, but it’s ludicrous. L*urel didn’t even rate a goodbye from Oliver. I find her suddenly being an expert on what Oliver would want for his daughter pretty tough to swallow. 

This conversation should’ve been with William. PERIOD.

Source: oliverxfelicity 

It’s insane L*urel is judging anyone about anything because SHE IS A MURDERER. But sure, being a socialite is the real crime. Thank goodness L*urel is here to stop all the shopping.

The show was desperate glaze over Bl*ck Sir*n’s history with bizarre explanations.

L*urel: I wasted a lot of time pretending to be something I wasn’t because it was easier.”

So, Bl*ck Sir*n was pretending to be a murderer because it was easier? 

That’s not a thing. You don’t pretend to a murderer. You just are one.

Bl*ck Sir*n wasn’t like Oliver Queen. She killed good and innocent people. We’re just supposed to accept she was always a good person simply because she says so? Sorry sweetheart, the evidence does not exist. I would send your ass to prison for a good 25 to life, but the network didn’t ask for my opinion about your participation in the new show. THEY SHOULD HAVE.

Then there’s the way they casually avoid things Bl*ck Sir*n has done.

Din*h: I can let go of the people I lost and mistakes that I made.

Din*h lost her boyfriend because L*urel murdered him. They ate French fries and drank milkshakes in a ten second scene and now we’re supposed to believe they’re best friends. Umm… no. If you want to make this friendship believable don’t pretend their history doesn’t exist. Most of your viewing audience is coming from Arrow. We remember that L*urel killed Dinah’s boyfriend.

L*urel: D you’re up. You ready?

Din*h: Never not.

Ugh. Cringe. Arrow was effortlessly bad ass because Stephen Amell made Oliver Queen look effortlessly bad ass. 

The action was show, not tell, and that includes the dialogue. There is no making L*urel and Din*h cool, so just-

And POSE. It’s like mannequins in a Macy’s window. YIKES.

Source: canarynetwork

They force this “Ra Ra Girl Power” nonsense with clunky lines and empty camaraderie while at the same time; L*urel eviscerates Mia’s life choices by insulting her all hour. If you want to bolster “female relationships” on this network then start with the women treating each other with respect.

There was a criminal lack of William, Zoe and Connor. TERRIBLE DECISION.

Hopefully, this changes dramatically if the show goes to series. This is what I meant by “retooled.” It is clear two different concepts are being slapped together. The one we saw in 7x16 and whatever KC pitched to the network. The biggest flaw in this backdoor pilot is how disjointed it feels.

It’s like there are two shows. Mia has her life with William, Zoe, JJ and Connor and the other show is Din*h and L*urel. It’s similar to Oliver and L*urel/Tommy/Thea versus Diggle/Felicity in the beginning of Arrow, but it feels really unnecessary to make that mistake again. I do not feel Green Arrow and The Canaries is Marc Guggenheim and Beth Schwartz’s vision for what they wanted the spin-off to be and it is GLARINGLY obvious.

No mention of Felicity or Diggle. Yes, I understand why. We have to watch the Arrow series finale to find out what happens to our beloved characters. Mia and William never mentioning Felicity and JJ and Connor never mentioning Diggle & Lyla is WEIRD. Particularly since it was Mia’s graduation and her engagement party with JJ.

Stray Thoughts

 I vote for this to be Mia’s next tattoo. Source:  amunetblack

Well… that’s new information Din*h. Source:  shawgroves

Why is L*urel calling Din*h “D?” When did that start?

Rene is running for a third term. Do we need to be concerned about a utilitarianism regime happening?

I will never believe Din*h can do “Felicity stuff.” Where the hell is William?

“Oh frack you.” FINALLY.

The adversarial relationship between Mia and L*urel is a wise choice given how KC and Katherine McNamara interact online with each other. Or don’t as the case may be.  

What is happening with L*urel's boots? Are there bombs attached to them or something?

The lipsticks on L*urel and Din*h are not good. There's a lot of eye makeup happening too. Let's tone it down makeup department.

This is my face whenever I see L*urel too.  Source: supercanaries

You killed her fiancée L*urel. Pay your fucking tab.

Female Big Bad. Could be awesome. Just have to wait and see.

I'm really glad William and Mia are rich again. I missed billionaire money. It's fun.

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me. 8x09 gifs credited.

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

#arrow #green arrow and the canaries #arrow 8x09 #arrow 8x09 review #arrow episode review #green arrow #mia smoak #william clayton #jj diggle #Connor Hawke #connor diggle #arrow reviews #mia and jj #mia and william #mia and connor #deathstar #smoaknhawke #anti laurel lance #anti dinah drake #anti black canary #anti black siren #arrow season 8 #season 8 episode review #season 8 episode reviews #olicity #oliver queen #felicity smoak #john diggle #future team arrow #anti katie cassidy

[rainforestgeek]

If you lose your strength to stand (I’m gonna reach for your hand) pt. 13 “What Doesn’t Kill You”

Par 12

AO3 link

--

Lance had too many thoughts swirling around his head.

That seemed to be happening a lot lately.

Obviously there was Lotor’s freaking bombshell. This whole new...benevolent side of him came to light that was difficult to reconcile with the version Lance already knew. He’d saved an entire people from extinction and kept them safe for thousands of years. What the hell .

On the flip side, Allura was completely furious and getting mad on her behalf was so easy. She and Coran had every right to know the people they’d been grieving all this time had survived. Lotor could have eased their suffering phoebes ago! If Lance were in their shoes…

He could never begin to understand their shoes.

Coran also had been quick to point out Lotor kept Allura from her birthright as the next in line to be the Altean queen.

Perched on Red’s head and staring at the Black Lion now, Lance worried about his teammates. Shiro, obviously, was still MIA (hopefully not KIA, but that was not an option ). Allura’d already had a double role as rebellion figurehead and Blue Paladin. The life-changing news of the colony probably started pulling her attention in yet another mind-boggling direction. Lance didn’t really know what was going on with Hunk, and honestly, that worried him anyways. Hunk didn’t do holding things in . So either that  meant he was remarkably well-adjusted right now or something was wrong. (Or Lance was overreacting, which was definitely a possibility.) Then Pidge. Hunk’s emotional state was debatable but there was no mistaking the bedraggled, red-eyed, matted-haired state Pidge had been in during the conference call. It was obvious even through a holographic screen. Forget stressed; according to her appearance, Pidge had ascended to a new level of semi-zombified mania. He wanted nothing more than to teleport to the Castle and wrap her up in his arms. Keith at least seemed to have got his head on straight, finally. Even so, Lance dreaded what might happen now that he was back in place as the Head of Voltron. Would his head stay straight after going through all that stress again?

Something shifted in the corner of Lance’s eye. He leapt to his feet and just about slid off the head of his Lion in the process. Keith chuckled at him.

Lance glowered. “Freaking hell, Keith, if you try hard you might manage to be even quieter than  a ghost.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask. When did that happen?” Keith jerked his head at Lance’s right hand.

He looked, mildly surprised to see he’d summoned the broadsword. He deactivated his bayard and sat back down. “A while back, while I was getting in some extra time with the battle drones. I still kinda suck at using it, though. Think you could give me some pointers later?”

Keith shrugged and joined him. “Sure. I won’t go easy on you.”

“If you did I’d be offended.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Waiting for the Castle of Lions to arrive was like waiting for a water glass to fill up during a drought.

“Is there something bothering you?” Keith asked.

“What isn’t? Our enemy’s all-powerful, Lotor’s been hiding a whole colony of Alteans, Shiro’s still missing, and Pidge looked ready to collapse this morning. I’d say I’ve got a couple things on my mind.”

Keith made an affirmative humming sound. “I’ve been told talking about it can help.”

Lance blew air out through his teeth. Ran a hand through his hair. “You’re the one who found your long-lost alien mother in the middle of a space war. Wanna talk about that?”

“Are you trying to goad me or seriously asking?” His friend’s face looked shrewd.

He paused for a beat. He admitted, “I don’t know.”

“Honestly, I...I feel at peace for the first time in my life. Not peaceful, but. Ugh. Like I’m solid instead of a bunch of broken pieces.” Keith’s fingers drummed out a steady beat on his knee.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Lance replied. He wanted to show Keith encouragement somehow, with an elbow nudge or playful shove or something. If he’d take it like that was a completely different thing.

He sighed through his teeth. Keith did offer to listen, he figured. Kinda. Might as well. “On top of everything, I still feel weird in my role on the team. I was serious when I said I should step down before. Flying Blue was magical . We fit together so well. And I love Red, honest to God I’m taking care of her but I miss that. I just feel kinda stretched in the wrong direction. Like we fit together but just barely and not as naturally.”

Keith had begun drumming his fingers against the Red Lion’s hull. “I think I get that same feeling with the Black Lion. Despite everything I keep feeling drawn to Red, back when I was really comfortable. Same as you miss Blue.”

Lance furrowed his eyebrows at him. “What do you mean ‘drawn to Red?’”

“You know. That lingering quintessence bond with your first lion. It never really goes away and I guess you and I are the only ones who can get that.”

A ton of bricks materialized in Lance’s stomach and freefell through his body. He’d thought he’d known jealousy. Apparently not.

It’s true, he didn’t feel quite right with the Red Lion. But the second part of what Keith said didn’t strike a chord or string or a bell or ven a freaking triangle for that matter. Because when Blue had cut him off, she’d cut him off. He had no connection to her anymore. No matter the emotional bond that still existed there was nothing official or magical or energetic between them anymore. She only ever touched his mind with the faintest traces that Yellow or Green or Black did through the rest of Voltron.

He only had Red. Who apparently didn’t let go so easily.

Lance could feel her now, her affection for them both as Keith absent-mindedly spread his fingers over the surface of her head. Like a cat scratched behind the ears, she purred faintly. Judging by the minute reactions on his face he figured Keith felt that, too.

Good God, there was a day Lance could have stayed angry at Keith for a year. But right now, overpowering the ache in his chest, the empty spot where Blue had been, the envy gutting him like a blunt knife, the claustrophobia of sharing Red - beyond it all, he was surprised to feel genuinely happy for Keith. He’d been alone for most of his life and haunted for all of it. They were close enough to know that. And his relationship to the Red Lion was essential in gluing him together. She kept him strong and kept him safe.

No matter how jealous he was, Lance understood that. He wanted to keep Keith safe, too. Same as the rest of his team.

Keith’s head jerked up and Lance gasped when they heard the Black Lion let loose an echoing roar. Something slammed into Lance’s mind. What the hell - he knew that feeling, but he also didn’t. Deep tendrils of stellar nighttime wove through his heart and curled around his mind. Fire gently retreated and ether flooded in its place. He was a sailor with the wind at his back. He was twelve years old, hang gliding for the first time. He was fourteen, cradling his tiny, fragile niece in his arms.

Lance’s heart broke as Red slipped away but filled with strength as Black gazed down at him. All he could do was stand on unsteady legs and stare back into her glowing eyes.

Keith clapped him on the back. It was probably intended as a gesture of solidarity, but as its end result, Lance’s first act as the Black Paladin of Voltron was to slip, flailing, and fall hard to the floor.

Part 14

#plance #pidgance #flirtyrobot #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld fix it #fix it fic #canon divergence #keith #lance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #slowburn #platonic klance #black lion #red lion #black paladin lance

[cherrywoodpecker]

Perennial Heart | Alec Utgoff x Reader | Chapter Two

Link to Chapter One

WC: 2472

Paired Listening: S. O. S. by ABBA

Link to Paired Listening

Author’s Note: Hey! Thanks to everyone who read chapter one! I haven’t written fanfiction in years and writing this has been making me really happy. I don’t expect to get this very popular, but if anyone wants to be tagged when I post a new chapter, I won’t mind. I don’t really care much about the reads because I’m just glad I found something that makes me happy and doesn’t stress me out. Anyways, have a good one! Thanks for reading!

TW: MENTION OF CHEATING

You shivered as you found your seat on the plane. You always found planes to be incredibly cold. You turned your phone back on for the first time since you told Seth you were leaving. He had texted you 57 times and called 30 times. You didn’t bother to read all of his messages, but you read enough to know that he was worried for your safety and was insistent on convincing that you two could work this out. You sent him one last text. 

“i won’t have service where I’m going. I’m safe. What I need is time alone right now. bye”

You turned your phone off and stuffed it into the deepest corner of your backpack. The fact that you wouldn’t be able to use it was comforting to you. While there was a part of you that was proud of yourself, deep down, you were still having trouble registering emotions on a surface level. Your body, your brain, everything was numb. You knew what you would be feeling if you weren’t numb, but you just couldn’t grasp the gratification of cutting Seth off, or the excitement and nervousness of getting on a plane and going to a country where you barely spoke any of the language. Everything was just... happening- and all you could feel was indifferent. 

Your first plane would be taking you to London. The airport in your city didn’t offer nonstop service to Kiev, so this was the best you could do. You didn’t care. At the beginning of the flight, you retrieved your camera from your bag and took your first picture, which was of the city from up in the air. You felt kind of lucky to have the window seat. It meant you had more to look at and mildly entertain you during the flight. As the plane continued to ascend, you realized you were exhausted. You had barely done anything yet that day, and you still felt like your body was shutting itself off. You decided to lay your head back and rest for a little while. 

You woke up by hitting your head against the seat in front of you. You looked out your window and couldn’t see much beyond the runways and plane hangars. It was dark, too, but you knew you were in London. 

As you left the plane, you felt like you were dreaming. That morning, you had felt like you could marry the man you were living with, and now you were wasting every dollar to your name to get away from him. 

No matter where you were, you felt like your soul, the core of where every feeling you had came from, was continuously falling into a void with no bottom. 

You found your next gate. Your flight wasn’t leaving for an hour or so, so you tried to find a place to sit. As you gazed around your gate, you noticed that all of the seats were taken, but not necessarily by people. Seats were taken by people, dogs, suitcases, purses, guitar cases, and pretty much everything that could be brought into an airport. You sighed, and sat against a wall. You donned a hoodie you had stuffed into a duffel bag carry on, and pulled the hood around your head. You leaned your head back and took a deep breath. 

He had said you were perfect. 

Seth had told you that every single person who had treated you inhumanely before was a lunatic because you were the best girl he had ever met. 

He called you the most beautiful girl in the world, and while you never believed it, it felt nice to hear someone call you that. It was nice to indulge in the belief that someone could see you as more beautiful than any other. 

What had you done to make him cheat?

You felt a light tap on your shoulder. 

“Miss? Uhh, miss?” He said. You looked up. Your eyes were cloudy with tears, and nothing looked quite right. You knew there was somebody in front of you, trying to get your attention. He sounded like a guy. 

“Yeah. Hi. ‘sup.” You said, using as short of terms as possible to possibly avoid a conversation with some chatty Kathy type. You realized it was hard to speak.

“Uh,” He hesitated. “I was just wondering if you’d like to take my seat. I saw you sitting on the ground and...” He trailed off, then continued “I thought you might want my seat.”

You didn’t like the idea of taking some asshole’s charity, but the floor was uncomfortable as hell. You took him up on it. You stood up, slinging your carry on behind you. 

“Thanks,” you said. As you walked over to the seat where he removed his luggage, you noticed that something hot was trailing down your cheek. You were crying. 

You realized why the stranger had been so scared while talking to you. You thought you were keeping your cool, meanwhile you were unwillingly submitting to a 2007-Britney-Spears-Level breakdown in front of the entire airport. You took your hoodie sleeve and wiped your face down before hiding it again in your hood and pulling out something to pretend to read until your plane was ready to board. 

A small drop hit the pages of your book.

You were finally feeling something,  but it wasn’t good. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alec found the morning that he headed to the airport to be quite refreshing, despite the fact that he was running on two hours of sleep. He felt refreshed, excited, and ready to see the beautiful city of Kiev again. Despite the fact that it was one in the morning, despite the fact that he had forgotten to pack the night before, he managed to make the morning a happy one, and left his apartment with time to spare. He ate a bagel slathered in honey and drank a big cup of raspberry tea (with more honey) on his way. 

He always loved airports after midnight. Everything was quiet, unless there was some big storm somewhere or some other type of problem. Sure, most stores were closed, but he never needed to shop there anyway. He actually enjoyed it more, because there was some sort of thrill in walking down a corridor without anybody else in it. 

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but there was also some satisfaction in the fact that there wasn’t anyone around to ask him for a picture or autograph. 

When he got to his gate, he was surprised by the amount of people already there. People were filling up seats incredibly quickly, so Alec made a beeline for an empty spot he found over by the window. It was mostly dark out, but he could see the pretty lights of London twinkling beyond the airport. 

He noticed more people were flooding to the gate. He thought perhaps a connecting flight had just landed. Everyone found their seats and soon the entire area was abuzz with the sounds of impatient flyers. Alec noticed some people staring at him. He averted his eyes downward and began to scroll on his phone. He put on headphones just for good measure, and played some classic rock. He felt like the enthusiasm of the music suited his morning quite nicely. 

Minutes after the terminal had crowded, Alec noticed someone weaving through the rows of seats trying to find an empty one. Her face was blank, thoughtless. Her demeanor more suited that of the average person taking a 2 AM flight. After realizing there were no seats left, she sat against the wall closest to Alec, seemingly unbothered. Alec paid her no mind until several minutes later, when he noticed movement and sound coming from her corner. She was now in a black sweat shirt, her head tilted back. There were tears building up around her eyes and he noticed her body quake in a hiccuped breath as she kept trying to breathe deeply. One or two other people in the vicinity noticed it, too. 

He stood up and set his backpack on his seat so nobody could take it, and he walked over to her. She didn’t notice him, as her eyes were shut and she hadn’t heard him, so he had no choice but to try to tap her on the shoulder. 

“Miss?” He said, suddenly nervous that he’d irritate her by bothering her. “Uhh, miss?” Her eyes fluttered open, glassy with obvious tears.

“Yeah. Hi. ‘sup” she said, clearly uninterested in anything outside of her own mind. 

“Uh,” Alec stuttered again. “I was just wondering if you’d like to take my seat. I saw you sitting on the ground and...” Shit. Alec didn’t know how to handle some stranger blubbering in a public place, but even more than that, he wanted to be kind. “I thought you might want my seat.”

Her facial expression didn’t change much. She blinked at Alec a few times and nodded, getting up and letting him lead her to his seat. Alec brought his carry on to her little corner and sat back, waiting for the plane to board. Before he could put his headphones back on, a young in a flight attendant’s uniform approached him, asking for selfie after selfie. 

‘Kiev,’ he thought, as the satisfied fan walked back to the desk. ‘Here I come.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were hoping that this sudden feeling of dread would go away shortly, so you could continue living a numb existence, but it persisted through boarding.

What made it sting worse is that Seth was your best friend. He had been ever since you guys started hanging out. He just got you in a way you thought was different than the way anyone else understood you. Sure, he could be mean about your flaws. He never understood them. But it was nice to have someone around who had more confidence in you than you did.  

You could hear his voice in your head.

“What is wrong with you? Do you really think you’re such a dumb piece of shit that you won’t pass this class? You have a fucking C in it! You’re fine!” 

He was abrasive. He could be a jackass. He could be mean.

But he was all you wanted to talk to right now. 

Here you were, on what could be the biggest adventure of your life, and you were stranded in a sea of unfamiliar people, bound to loneliness by plane and the betrayal Seth had committed against you. 

He would have thought Kiev was so cool. He would have quelled your fears about not being able to speak the local language as good as you would have to. While you were a beginner, in his eyes, you were fluent. 

The loneliness reached its peak about halfway through the flight, around the hour and a half mark. You missed him so much and all you could feel was a sourness in your stomach at the thought that you weren’t enough for him. The sourness in your stomach turned into real, pulsating discomfort. You stood up and ran to the nearest restroom, which was towards the front of the plane. All of the people in First Class got fancy curtains so people in the aisle ways couldn’t bother them. 

You managed to do just that, however, when you tripped over a rogue shoe poking out from one of these curtains and fell to the floor. You could hear curtains being pushed back so the First Class passengers could see who was making all the racket. You quickly got up, still as nauseous as you’ve ever been, and ran to the restroom. Before you shut the door, you could hear an annoyed flight attendant say:

“Ma’am, those restrooms are for the First Class pas-”

Before he could finish, you had shut the door and started to get sick. 

After that, you felt drained, even more exhausted than you were before, and helpless. Nobody would be there for you after you opened that door to possibly face a flight attendant. Nobody would be there for you in Kiev. When you came back to the states, the only person there for you would be the person who took your utmost trust and threw it out the window. 

Right now, there was only you. 

For the rest of your life, you realized, there would only be you. 

You stood up, fixed your appearance in the mirror as much as you could, and left the restroom. When the flight attendant tried to confront you, you just muttered a “Yeah, sorry,” before walking back to your seat and contemplating yourself for the rest of the flight. 

Learning not to cry over it wasn’t going to be easy. 

You didn’t know how long it would take not to cry. 

But

You were your own person, and you didn’t need Seth for anything. 

And in that moment, you began to appreciate his absence

though you still hadn’t stopped crying. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Alec had boarded and settled into his soft, comfortable First Class seat, he almost nearly passed out. He hadn’t felt tired for a second before boarding the plane, but with the lights nearly all out, and the seat so comfortable, he couldn’t resist. He mentioned to the flight attendant before takeoff that he had already eaten and wouldn’t be interested in any sort of refreshment service. 

With that, he closed his curtain (an addition that didn’t bother him in the slightest), sat back, and drifted blissfully to sleep thinking of the flowers in the botanical gardens of Kiev that would be in bloom when he landed. 

He woke up to a twisting pain in his left foot before realizing that it had been in the aisle and someone had tripped on it. He moved his curtain to say sorry. it was the girl from before, and she looked worse. Her entire face was wet, and she looked incredibly pale. She looked sick. He tried to say something, but she quickly gathered herself and rushed to the restrooms at the front of the plane, being followed by a half-interested flight attendant trying to tell her that she couldn’t use those restrooms. 

Alec pulled his curtain closed and rolled his eyes at the flight attendant. She was obviously going through something. He couldn’t get back to sleep after that, but he could watch the landscape pass by the window, letting all of his thoughts escape with the passing clouds. 

In terms of experience, it wasn’t a bad flight, but with every passing second that Alec wasn’t in Kiev, he became more impatient to see it. He had this undying, unquestionable hope that everything would get better once he got to Kiev. 

He thought of the girl obviously having a breakdown. 

He hoped Kiev would help her, too. 

#Alec Utgoff #Alexei #Alexei Smirnoff #stranger things #stranger things 3 #ST3 #hurt/comfort #angst #im trying to get better at tagging #second person #reader #xreader #fanfiction #Fanfic #slow burn #I guess? #I promise this will get happier soon

[carnistcervine]

Agni’s Favor

Just something kinda quick that I wrote up from an idea I got this morning.

AU, I guess. Doesn’t strictly follow canon lore-wise at least. I know that they establish an identity for the Avatar Spirit in LOK, but personally, I’ve always preferred the idea that it’s the World Spirit or spirit of the planet. :’D It makes the consequences of Avatar slaying much more deep and serious, and also gives a built in explanation for why the Avatar is a master of all four elements.

~x~

Agni. Spirit of the sun, father of dragons, and honorable guardian of the people of fire.

Not that he was terribly pleased with his people at the moment. The fire throne's recent line of succession was bringing dishonor to his name.

It had started out well enough, with the friendship of Roku and Sozin. Even before the world knew, Agni knew that Roku was the Avatar. All the spirits knew. Any ancient spirit could recognize one of their own. And honestly, the friendship between the Fire Prince and the Avatar? That was how things were meant to be. Just as the moon pulls the ocean, the sun warms the planet. The Fire Lord and the Avatar were meant to be allies, to be friends.

Agni honestly didn't care about his people's attempted conquest of the world. Those were human matters, and humans were well, human. However, the thing that made his flames burn hotter was how the Fire Lord would stubbornly turn on the Avatar. Fool. A damned fool. And when Sozin left Roku to die on that volcano, Agni's flame simmered in disappointment.

It was fine though, Roku was reaching the end of his life anyway, and it was ultimately the volcanic gas that had done him in. However, what really made Agni burn was how Sozin destroyed the Air Temples in an attempt to get the next Avatar. Had Sozin burned the temples for his own sadistic pleasure, Agni would not have cared, but to attempt to destroy the Avatar cycle, to stop the reincarnation of the World Spirit, that was unacceptable.

Thankfully, the Avatar had been a desperate child, and fled before destruction could reach him. And as the Avatar slept, Agni watched over the world. A gleaming blue gem in a cosmic void. Blue was such a lovely color, it's really no wonder the Moon fell for the Ocean.

Despite Agni's grievances, he still had the back of his people and their deigned leader. Even in his disappointment, he blessed each potential heir with his flame. However, he gave a certain Fire Princess his favor. Gifting her with blue flame. Blue really is such a lovely color.

When the true heir of fire lost his son, the second born ascended the throne. And this Fire Lord, burned and banished his first born, leaving the second born, the Fire Princess, with a direct line to the throne. The scorched prince searched the world for his honor, and the princess reveled in her favor. Agni watched silently, like a burning sentinel in the heavens.

Truly, Azula must have known that she had Agni's favor, otherwise why else would she attempt to usurp the Earth King and Long Feng? And her whole speech about having a divine right to power. Certainly she must have known. Even still, to claim a divine right to the throne? The second born of a second born who stole his throne? All in a land not her own. If Agni had a mouth, he would have smirked. Somehow her plan worked. At fourteen Princess Azula managed a bloodless coup of the impenetrable city.

However, things took a turn. The Avatar's companions wanted to defend Ba Sing Se, and the Avatar wanted to defend his companions, and the Avatar Spirit... would defend the Avatar. Agni would not defend the Fire Princess against the World Spirit. But it seemed he didn't need to. In a move Agni considered most dishonorable, she had struck down the Avatar with an attack to the back, mid ascent.

It reminded Agni of when Zhao had killed the Moon Spirit. Such action disgusted him, mortals had no place to kill the vital forces of nature. To a kill an ancient spirit, one of Agni's own. It was like watching the slaying of his children all over again. When the Ocean and the World joined together to destroy his people's fleet, Agni did not step in. If the World Spirit deemed such action necessary, Agni wouldn't stop it. Agni turned his back when the Ocean personally dragged Zhao into the depths of the spirit world.

Served him right.

But to watch Azula destroy the Avatar Spirit. Agni flared in anger. How DARE the mortals! How DARE his OWN PEOPLE?! Had he a face, he would have roared from his rage. From there, he abandoned Azula.

Once the Avatar Spirit had perished, the effect was immediate. The world stopped turning, the ocean and sky currents stopped moving, the core of the planet began to cool. Of course the mortals wouldn't notice until it was too late.

Thankfully though, a Watertribe girl with spiritually enhanced water managed to revive the both the spirit and it's host. She hadn't known it, but she saved them all. Agni never would have guessed it, but he was proud of one of Tui and La's people. Blue is a wonderful color.

But of course, Agni still had revenge to enact. Only, his wouldn't be so grand and obvious as the Ocean's fit of rage. No, he would be much more insidious. After all, all firebenders had a little bit of him in them. Their inner flame. Agni already knew of the crack's within Azula's mental foundation. She wanted love, but at the same time rejected it. Creating a turmoil within herself. Turmoil that was consumed by her inner flame, making her hollow. So without love she used fear to control others. Like some kind of monster. Just like that, the Sun had an idea. He would wait for his prime opportunity.

When Azula came to Ember Island, Agni spoke to her through the flames of the bonfire. Azula's own mother, Ursa thought she was a monster. Only, Ursa didn't really believe such a thing, but it fell in line nicely with the things that Azula already believed about her mother. She mentioned the thought to the others, and it didn't get to her in that moment. But the seed had been sewn.

When Zuko left to aid the Avatar, Azula was mildly disappointed, but not at all surprised. Agni crackled. "What did you expect?"

When the two nonbenders betrayed Azula, Agni crackled through her inner flame. "Just like your Mother."

When Ozai left to become the Phoenix King, Azula had to remain behind as Fire Lord. She felt honored, but Agni knew better. "You're just a tool." She didn't believe him. She didn't want to.

When she sat in her seat, blue flames crackling behind her, Agni pitched in. "They're all out to get you."

"What do you mean?" She turned her gaze slightly, eyeing the flames from the corner of her eye.

"None of these people have your back. None of your servants have your back." Agni crackled. "Just like your friends. Just like your father."

"False!" Azula said sharply. "Father is proud of me, and I have fear to control those under me."

"Really now?" Agni wanted to smirk. "Even the proud, and stubborn earthbenders who call themselves the Dai Li? Why would any earthbender in their right mind support the Fire Nation? Unless..." Agni paused thoughtfully. "Why don't you call them in, if they get here before an assassin could kill you, then they must be on your side."

Agni watched with near glee as Azula banished and turned on her many servants and supporters.

When all was said and done, and no one was around to style her hair, she ended up messing it up and cutting it in a maddened revenge. Agni reached into her splintering mind once more and conjured the form of her mother. While he tried his best to use Azula's memory to mimic Ursa's voice, his crackling tone still slipped though. Thankfully for him though, Azula's enfeebled mind didn't notice the difference.

With Sozin's comet scraping along the sky, Azula and Zuko held their final agni kai. Dishonorably, and predictably, Azula ended up attacking a non-combatant. And the honorable prince dove in the way to save the Watertribe girl's life. Agni recognized the child in blue as the girl who had revived the World. Being one of the people of water, Agni could not give his favor or blessing to this child. However...

...

When it came down to it, Azula should have won, she had her kata just right and pointed directly at the face of the water girl. However, in the place of favor, Agni granted this child mercy and blocked Azula's inner fire for just a second, just long enough for the waterbender's ice to encase both parties. The water girl had saved the Avatar Spirit, so Agni returned the favor in the best way he could.

With Azula defeated, the burned prince, no, the honorable prince. The one without Agni's favor, was crowned Fire Lord. And at last, things were once again as they should be. With the Fire Lord and the Avatar as friends.

Agni crackled pleasurably at the scene. Azula had his favor, but Zuko, Agni's champion, didn't need it. And Fire Lord Zuko would create a Fire Nation that Agni could be proud of.

"Well done." Agni crackled.

Slightly startled, the newly crowned Fire Lord looked around. He couldn't see anyone, but he got the feeling that someone was very proud of him.

~x~

Basically, Azula fucked up when she killed Agni’s waifu.

OkayLetMeStop.

#ATLA #Avatar #avatar: the last airbender #Agni #Azula #ATLA fanfic #someone stop me I'm having fun #AU? I'm gonna say AU

[perfecttimemachinestranger]

The Visitor (FIC, M/F, T)

The Visitor

Summary: Grand Moff Tarkin suddenly wakes up on board an alien warship. What can the Chiss and their attractive Admiral possibly want from him?

Notes: I enjoy linguistics and it was a disappointment to me to find out how abysmal the Cheunh vocabulary is in canon. Thus, for the purposes of this story, I’ve relied on the fan-created Coruscant translator, found here: http://starwars.myrpg.org/coruscant_translator.php

Finally, my warm thanks to Cassandra1 for the beta work.

…ran’cuzo nah vav… nah bekavcim’i…

His sense of hearing returns before his eyesight. The incomprehensible gibberish his captors use for a language is mostly composed of mumbling and hisses, but the intonation sounds familiar. He guesses their origin even before hearing that one voice he recognizes. Thrawn. The blue devils. He is pleased to have been proven right regarding the so-called Grand Admiral’s loyalties.

As his senses and his strength slowly return, he bides his time. Let them think him helpless, weakened, vulnerable. He awaits the perfect moment.

Tarkin’s only thought as his fist connects with the traitor’s jaw is how sublime the sound is. The action itself is extremely satisfying. The pain catches up with him a few seconds later and although he knows, he is not prepared for it. It hurts now, much worse than he remembers from his younger years. Still, that pain is nothing in comparison with the anger that explodes in his head at Thrawn’s indifference. The blue bastard is just standing there, watching with mild interest as Tarkin nurses his bruised hand. It’s almost infuriating enough to rouse him into another attack.

He springs again and this time, the alien recoils.

Breakfast is served by the usual young male, but he is flanked by two guards with faces of stone – one male, one female. Thrawn doesn’t show up until after the next meal. The alien’s chin bears no evidence of fighting. His own hand is still sore.

“Allow me to welcome you on board the warship Cart’tusah, Governor.”

“You’ll understand if I don’t share your enthusiasm for my visit. What do I even call you now?” With the alien in the black uniform that is apparently his correct attire, Tarkin will no longer maintain the absurd pretence of them ever serving on the same side.

“My rank within the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet is undecided at present. I suggest you address me by my name.”

”Very well, Thrawn. This seems to be the moment where I ask to be taken to your leader. Whoever that is.”

“I will take you to her.”

The Chiss commander is a formidable woman. Stern-looking, tall, with a chiselled face to rival his own. She stares at him, just like they all do. For a while he just stands there, giving her the same treatment, but he cannot take it perpetually.

“What is the purpose of this?” He throws up his hands. “I do commend Thrawn here on his treachery – he succeeded in duping us all!”

She shows no sign of understanding his words, but she gives a nod, and Thrawn speaks.

“Curiosity.”

“What?”

“The purpose of your visit, governor Tarkin, is to satisfy curiosity. Admiral Ar’alani wishes to acquaint herself with a human.”

“And she has not come across any before? I remember the stories you told, about the first human visitors to your people. Not to mention your own entourage; you could have picked one of them.” He mutters. “As if there aren’t enough alien-loving fools around who’d have jumped at the opportunity to –“

“None of the others held her interest.”

“Is that what I am? A superior specimen?”

“She finds you intriguing. And very capable of what she has in mind.” There is no mistaking the suggestive glance, from both of them. Thrawn adds, lifting an elegant eyebrow, “Procreation is the acceptable term, I believe?”

“I guess I’m supposed to be flattered. No offense to you, madam, but I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

The notion that he has been abducted to serve as some sort of stud is ridiculous. It is so far-fetched that he should immediately dismiss it as a ruse to keep him away from the war. Or the Chiss indeed know nothing of human biology.

The admiral gives a soft hiss that Thrawn translates with a question. “Why?”

“Men of my age seldom sire children. The possibility is there, but no guarantee.”

“My apologies,” Thrawn hurries to say, instead of relaying the reply to his superior. “My previous translation was inaccurate. The admiral wishes to sleep with you for entertainment purposes. For pleasure,” he corrects himself.

“Do I look like some young stag willing to jump into bed at any opportunity?”

To his surprise, she doesn’t laugh as his reply is translated. Rather, her gaze becomes more intense, her mouth opening slightly. She appears almost excited.

His eyes widen at the low growl emanating from deep in her throat. If he has initially doubted her interest, there is no doing so now. He wonders for a moment what her hair would feel like to run between his fingers or grab in his fist. Reluctantly, he admits to wanting to hear her make that sound again.  

Thrawn’s translation is utter unnecessary. “The admiral values experience.”

“She does, now. Tell her I appreciate the offer, but no.” Flattering as it is, he has a war to fight. Did she honestly think the Grand Moff would gladly leave his duty for this?

“I have my duty to attend to,” he adds before the translation is complete. “A duty to my people, and its ruler.” This seems to catch her attention, and he adds for good measure: “I must do this before I can think of pleasure.”

“The admiral’s wish is above your orders,” Thrawn says. She considers your temporary removal a small sacrifice for your Empire in comparison with the gains received from my service.”

“Not an offer, but an order? It’s regrettable, but I don’t perform well under duress.” The lie crosses his lips casually enough, but it grates on him. “This is a common biological feature in humans, not a personal flaw,” he adds.

This time she smiles.

“You have been appointed as adviser to Admiral Ar’alani,” Thrawn states. “This is an honour and you will serve under her on board this vessel for the foreseeable future.”

“You must release me immediately!” He’s on the verge of blowing up again. “I’m not some disposable lieutenant. I have friends in high places. Kidnapping the Grand Moff, and at the height of our triumph! The Emperor needs me.”

“Perform well, and your friends will one day find you miraculously rescued.” She smiles briefly, then her expression hardens again. “Continue to disrupt the Ascendancy’s plans, and you will perish like your Empire already believes you have.” She gives a curt nod and a young girl of perhaps ten years comes forward to stand beside her.

This is too much. “Do you keep children onboard to gawk at strangers?”

The admiral hits him fast, hissing something harsh, making not only the child fade a fraction. Her strength is considerable.

“You will not insult the Ozyly-esehembo,” Thrawn offers mildly. “The girl is our navigator. You may thank her.”

“For what? Becoming your guest?” He spits it and sees the admiral’s hand twitch.

“For your life. She convinced the admiral to act at this precise moment, thereby preventing your premature demise.”

“I would be in perfect health without your intervention.”

“The Death Star is no more. I am sorry,” Thrawn says, bowing with that perfect deference that grates on his bones.  

He cannot be sorry. If indeed the Death Star has been blown out of existence – a catastrophe of too large a magnitude to imagine – Thrawn would be smiling with glee, as he surely has done behind Tarkin’s back, conspiring with his compatriots ever since the beginning. How has the Emperor not seen this?

He purses his lips. “If this is true, I gather the funding for your TIE Defender programme has just been secured. That is, if you intend to go back.” He doesn’t even try to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“Governor, the destruction of the DS-1 is the deed of the rebels. The exiled remnant of the Alderaan cell.” There isn’t a hint of accusation in Thrawn’s calm voice. There needn’t be; they both know that the alien never approved of using the station’s power.

At night it hurts. Without his magnificent weapon to back it up, the Tarkin Doctrine, his legacy, is impotent, a shrivelled husk of the power it once was. Is this heavenly justice then? An almost-moon for a planet, all his colleagues, subordinates, his career blown to dust in revenge for an act too powerful for the very universe to tolerate?

He cannot thank the child.

Entertaining the admiral isn’t the chore he expected it to be, and he finds he has no difficulty at all performing. She is eager, responsive, and adventurous in ways that encourage him not only to bring his entire repertoire into play but to be inventive as well. With no language in common, they rely heavily on the fragments they do know. ‘Yes’ and ‘no’ go a long way. She talks a lot. After a while some words become familiar to him. She laughs when he repeats them to her.

Each time, afterwards, he asks her for permission to leave and she says no. It’s his first word in Cheunh and she says it so brutally. With time, he grows a little less interested in the answer. He keeps asking; this is their ritual.

He takes notes of everything on board – the instruments, the actions of the crew, the objectives of their journeys when she cares to share them with him. By day it’s all in his head; at night he scribbles. Until he realises. What she is showing him, all this knowledge, the Empire already has, in Thrawn. Is this what she is doing? Proving what her people has already given to his, with a reward in mind, or perhaps to eventually offer an alliance of some sort?

She shares his bed even when all she wants is to sleep. It is comforting, sleeping next to someone. Why did he never marry?

The black uniform is where he draws the line. It is of a dashing design; it is neither practicality nor looks that deter him from donning it.

One day in the mess hall he sees the girl again, the navigator with the title he can now identify as sky-walker. He is reminded of his immature behaviour towards her at their previous meeting and his need to change her impression of him. She is almost sacred and as an outsider he isn’t allowed to approach her, but he is lucky. She stares at him from afar, then comes to his side as he eats. It takes him a while to notice her presence; he only does so when the others lay their cutlery down to stare at her with polite interest.

She says nothing, but her small hand, as she lays it on top of his, feels like a jolt of power. It takes all his will not to snatch it back but let it rest on the table.

“Thank you,” he says. It comes out as barely a whisper, and he repeats it, over and over until she removes her hand and he feels like a fool. Whatever did he do that for? He turns away with a clenched jaw, then gazes up at her again. She looks back with a shy smile.

“I like you,” she says. “You’re funny.”

He smiles back – he cannot help it – then schools his features into a more dignified expression. The others have started eating again and thankfully, the episode is never mentioned.

That morning, Ar’alani is the one asking.

“Do you want to leave, Wilhuff?” Her pronunciation of his name is a little off, much like his entire vocabulary. He knows most of the officers’ names now, but much of the rest of it still sounds like hissing and mumbling if he doesn’t concentrate. He will never speak their language well. Only his r’s are perfection; this she told him already on their first night, even if he didn’t learn that until much later.

“I think so,” he replies, flabbergasted. “Yes, please.” His old life, his responsibilities, the power, the way they all depend on him and his word is law. Somehow, he’s already dismissed the possibility of that ever happening. His release. Suddenly he’s not so sure.

“Stay, Wilhuff,” she says. “You would be within your rights to retire, or you could become my adviser officially.”

He sighs. “No, Ar’alani. My duty and my loyalty must come first.” This is much harder to say than he ever thought it could be. Maybe there is a way back again, after the war, if he is released from service. Maybe there isn’t, and he must only be thankful for what was.

Four years. His time onboard the Chiss warship has felt like an eternity at times, yet there is always something new to learn. The vast expanses of space call to him much more than a desk, however elevated his position.  He should have expected his universe to change in that time, yet his belief in the Empire’s victory never wavered. The news delivered by the scout ship is a blow out of nowhere. “There is nothing,” Thrawn declares solemnly. “My condolences.”

“This must be some kind of mistake, of mis-navigation.”

“No. Your Emperor is dead. There is no successor.”

He has thought about it before. What to do in case the Empire he returns to is not the one he left. It mostly boils down to Sheev. To loyalty and honour. He has not considered a world where the Empire doesn’t exist.

“Turn around. Cso-sn’ah ses-vi-o’-ah.” He repeats it with excruciating thoroughness, but the crew understood the first time. “And bring the uniform.”

#Tarkin/Ar'alani #my fic #Wilhuff Tarkin #admiral ar'alani #AU tarkin lives

[goldenscript]

the consequential discovery | one

» chapters: prologue | one | two | three | four | five

pairing: park jimin | reader genre: friends with benefits + college au / fluff word count: 8,510 description: Your mother always warned you about the boys that were after one thing, yet she never warned you about the boys like Park Jimin. Unlike any of his predecessors, he’s taught you that your core isn’t the only thing that can burn — your heart can too.

THE START

You feel free for the first time at a party.

For once, this party doesn’t follow the norms of a college house party but rather takes advantage of the beach located a good half-hour away where seawater and the burn of the sun await already half-dead college students relishing in their last few weeks of summer vacation. Students find themselves basking in warmth and the thick air that only this time of the year can offer. It warms them, inviting them to dig their heels into the sand and enjoy the heavily-incorporated bass music as it ascends into a higher plane, just to prepare the listeners for a proper drop, along the waves with the few people that know how to surf, to taste the deep bitterness of the keg and other assorted alcoholic beverages all crowded around the picnic tables, and to free themselves from any other thoughts that are school-related in some way, shape, or form because the moment mid-August hits their freedom is stripped away.

Each of them have been stripped of worry lines or frowns, all things you expect from college students. Those closest to the shore are playing on the dry parts of land, tossing around a football in the sand and alongside them are a few boys playing soccer; within moments, they are hollering in elation as successful passes and goals are made all-around. These jovial sounds meld with the sounds emitting from the ones in the water, its seafarers running to and fro like the ebbing waves. It’s all set to the invigorating, lyrical sounds from the music booth adorned with a small crowd of bodies dancing together in a lopsided circle. Everyone is in their own little zone enjoying themselves, even the ones just lazing around with drinks in hand.

Among the plenty that are already relishing in their pre-game concoctions, you have a red Solo cup in hand while your best friend, Jisoo goes off to find some more for the two of you. It’s an experience you both decide to try together, so you beam at her when she approaches you with two more cups with different-colored liquids all sloshing around inside.

Once you managed to down the first cup of the keg beer, washing it down with a quarter of the half-empty Sprite bottle as a chaser. When your friend offers you a multi-colored mixture reeking with the sharp scent of tequila and some other unidentifiable drinks, your visage scrunches the moment you take a sip.

“What did you do it?”

Jisoo’s nose scrunches as she laughs sheepishly, “Sorry. I saw a bunch of stuff at the table, so I just mixed whatever.”

“Couldn’t you have watched somebody before you did that?” you guffaw, switching the cup for the bottle of Sprite. The carbonation thankfully fizzing away the godawful mango margarita aftertaste. She makes only a slight face and claims that you should’ve gone if her bartending skills were going to be an issue. “I mean I’m not judging… okay, I am, but Jisoo, try that and tell me if you actually like it.”

The red-haired girl shrugs, reaching for your rejected cup and doing as you suggested. Her expression is the same as yours, and you take this opportunity to laugh at her.

“See!” You grab a safe-looking cup from her other hand, feeling grateful when she chokes out that it’s Blue Moon brew. “Thank god—”

In the distance, you swear you heard someone yell something but it all falls on deaf hears and melts into the discordant sounds around you two. Somewhere in the mix, the part where you might’ve zoned the fuck out with batting an eyelash, you find yourself unscathed one moment and suddenly a projectile target the next.

“Well, oh shit—!” Jisoo looks at your top with a half-open mouth before she shoves the cups onto a nearby bench. “Lemme go find something to clean that up.”

You don’t even know how it happened exactly nor do you really register that Jisoo has scurried away, but the beer in hand winds up all over your cropped T-shirt and the pungent scent is your reality check. The already thin material clings to your skin, making you wish that you had packed extra clothes like you intended when you found out you were coming to the beach.

To your right lies a black soccer ball adorned with red lines for accents, and you immediately regret standing so close to the play area.

Should’ve seen that one coming. You look down at your poor T-shirt. Just great.

You look up and around in hopes of finding the perpetrators—scurrying away or not—or Jisoo, and to your surprise, you’re met with an attractive boy with a head of sable locks brushed toward the back of his head. He couldn’t have been much older than yourself, but getting a good look at him had you stop mid-thought as it registered in your brain just how handsome he is. With olive skin and dark-brown eyes the same shade of coffee, you especially note how plump his lips are as he speaks to you: “Fuck, I am so sorry! My friends and I weren’t paying attention to how close we were getting to the crowd until—well—that,” he gestures to you, “happened.”

You blink, shaking your head as you look at him and back to your shirt, and it suddenly becomes clear on what he was referring to. You immediately cross your arms over your chest, feeling your cheeks burn even hotter than before you stepped out of the dance floor with Jisoo for those cursed drinks as you reply, “I-it’s fine. Accidents happen. U-um—”

“—Shit, I’m still sorry. Did you bring any extra clothes?” he asks, scratching the back of his head. He takes a step back and reaches over to grab the ball from your right, giving you a small peek of his lean arms.

“I actually didn’t.” You huff under your breath, “unfortunately.”

“—lemme guess… sorry?” you say this in hopes of turning the bitter moment into something a little more lighthearted. Although you could’ve been raging at how incompetent him and his friends were, you can’t help but feel a little lax about the situation. At the very least, he came over to apologize, and not many guys or even people alone would do that, so you’re kind of grateful to find out he’s not an asshole. Well, sort of. That depended entirely on how this guy would going to react to your minor quip.

He feigns surprise (though his eyes briefly showed it for real), even clutching his chest as he replies, “How’d you know?” He leans closer, and you swear your heart skipped a beat. “Are you a psychic?”

“Mind reader, actually,” you correct him, cupping your ear after an idea passes your mind. “Oh, I’m getting something from you though.”

“Oh really?” He raises his eyebrows at you, a grin curving on his lips when you nod. “What is it?”

You feign a small gasp, “You brought extra clothes and you want to lend me a T-shirt?”

It takes him a moment to process what you’ve just said (something a part of you only mildly  feared that he would brush you off considering most people who pause like that do not appreciate your humor), but to your surprise, when your words do reach him, he throws his head back and lets out a full-bellowing laugh. 

“Was that a yes or no?” you ask after the sound dwindles down, unsure of whether that constitutes as a good response or a bad one.  

“Right,” he says with a nod, much calmer than a moment ago. “You’re in luck! I do.”

You let out a breath of relief and mutter, “Oh thank fuck. You’re a lifesaver—oh, what’s your name?”

“Jimin.”

“Well, thank you, Jimin.” you say with a smile. “Seriously, you’re a lifesaver.”

He waves you off, “It was my fault anyway. Me and my friends weren’t being careful.” It takes him a moment of standing there until he takes the opportunity to ask, “What’s your name? Unless you prefer going by Mind Reader.”

You laugh and shake your head, “No, you can call me Y/N. Calling me Mind Reader would be way too obvious. Someone might report me to the CIA or somethin’.”

The grin on Jimin’s features grows wider, a gesture that has you feeling obligated to return even if it is starting to hurt your face muscles. You can’t help but note that he has quite a nice, rather contagious smile. Before he can say a word, someone yells his name and soon a taller brunet donning a white T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts appears.

“Hey, everything okay over here?” he asks, looking between you and Jimin.

There’s a breeze that has you crossing your arms tighter over your chest, though you still give a nod as Jimin replies, “yeah, I’ll be back. I’m gonna lend her a shirt, so you guys continue the game.”

The mystery boy nods, looking at you and then Jimin once again. His doe-like eyes reminding you of a child’s as interest piques in the dark hues. He smiles at you and you return the gesture, watching as he leaves with the ball to a boy with chestnut brown locks and one with fiery red hair. The other two boys in question look over in your direction with the corners of their lips turned upwards though you make no comment of it as you turn to look at Jimin, who seems to be fishing in his pockets for his car keys.

Once he manages to locate them and you nod, you two begin to walk toward his parking spot. You decide to send Jisoo a text message that you’ll be back in ten minutes (of course citing that you found a spare T-shirt but leaving out the beer spiller in question) just so the poor girl won’t lose her head when you aren’t where you’re supposed to be.

“I’m surprised you’re not fuming that some idiotic guy spilled beer on you.” he says as you both make your way away from the rest of the party.

When you accidentally bump him while shrugging, you take immediately take note of how warm he is and continue on to responding, “It was an accident, so why am I going to get mad?” 

“You’re surprisingly lax too,” he says, looking over at you with the corners of his lips still upturned. “Blunt, too.”

He’s awfully observant, isn’t he?

“Is that a bad thing?” You even throw in, “This is how I usually am, by the way. I’m not drunk…” Taking a moment to pause, you admit, “Okay, I’m like almost tipsy but still a-okay!”

You two have made it onto the wooden steps, where he has you step first. He follows close behind and muses, “It’s not bad. Just different.”  

Truthfully, there’s just something calming about being at the beach, so as much as you probably would’ve freaked out at him had this been at any regular house party (because let’s be real, who in their right mind would play soccer indoors in a crowded frat house anyway?), you realize you didn’t feel the need to with him as you both approach ‘96 muted gold Volkswagen Hatchback. That one specifically catches your eyes as it stands as probably one of the oldest cars in the lot. Plus, it makes you smile, because it reminds you of your mother’s Nissan Altima from the same year, and much to almost everyone else’s amazement, that thing’s still kicking (even now in your possession).

He lets out a sigh, warning you, “Don’t rag on Ash, alright? He’s an oldie but runs well enough.”

You look at him incredulously and relinquish a small laugh. “You’re one of those guys?”

“What?” he says, walking backwards past two other cars. “There’s nothing wrong with naming your car. I bet you named yours.”

You roll your eyes and give a small shrug. “Okay, yeah I did. But Ash? Didja get that from Hatch?”

His mouth drops open ever-so-slightly, he stops right in front of the trunk so you do the same.

You blink, “What?”

“How’d you know? Most people think it’s ‘cuz of the color.”

“Well, when you say Hatch the ‘-atch’ part is almost like Ash,” you explain, seeing some strange relief flood his eyes. “When I was a kid, I used to say ‘hash.’”

“Funny, me too!” Patting the trunk, he adds with a breathy laugh, “This used to be my Dad’s so I just kept up the name I guess.”

From the looks of the scratches and the chipping paint, the car is pretty well-worn for wear but you understand from your mom that old cars like those could still run good as new. Probably even better if taken care of properly. It’s literally a hunk of metal, and in any given situation involving a car crash with a newer model, the oldies are the ones that would come out relatively unscathed. Your mom drilled that into your head and even did the same as Jimin’s dad with your current car, gifting it to you as a parting college gift so you know the desire to name your car comes from sentimental value.

“Cute, you can definitely tell he’s seen a thing or two. Is it a he?”

He rolls his eyes this time, “duh!”

You laugh, “Well, he reminds me of Jiji.” When Jimin looks over at you with his brows drawn upward in curiosity, you reply, “My mom’s old car. I loved Kiki’s Delivery Service and the car’s this interesting shade of black that can come off as this glossy, deep forest green in the sun, so I just thought the name fit.”

He can’t contain his smile, “Cute, I bet he’s seen a few things as well then.”

Your mouth falls open slightly, not missing the pronoun that falls off that stupidly plump lips, “You’ve seen it?”

“I liked it a lot, actually. Among many other Ghibli films...” he admits. “Plus, who would I be if I hadn’t seen those movies? All of them are classics.” 

“True, I’d have to disown you as my lifesaver for that.” He snorts in response, only fumbling with his car keys once.

You don’t say another word after that, deciding to let him continue his task so a silence ensues as he pops open the trunk to rummage through the assortment of bags, a few empty chip bags and cups (an exception to his silence as he cursed his friends), and even a few cups of Gatorade before he settles on a faded red duffle bag. Inside he has a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie, with a few other things though you pretend not to notice the Trojan wrapper as he hands you the plain black T-shirt.

“Thanks.” The scent of whatever cologne he used already wafting the open sea air and mixing with the sea breeze. To say the least, it wasn’t a surprise that it smelled so nice or that it was fresh and warm, like him. 

“No problem!” He says with the trash in his hands, “Can you get the trunk for me?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you say, shutting it as he walks toward the trash can by the stairs, and mumbles a few more curses at his friends. “I’m gonna change real quick!”

He replies with an affirmation and remains where he is as soon as his keys land safely in your hands. His gaze seems to be locked on the descending sky.

Rather than escaping to the bathroom near the edge of the party with a line far too long for your liking, you wedge yourself his car and some grey Lexus, opening the back door and making sure the tree in front of you can cover you once you’ve crouched down and strip off your damp shirt. The back of your shirt is used as a makeshift rag to get off the residual moisture on your abdomen and part of your bra, although it’s nothing like rinsing off in an actual shower, you’re feeling exponentially better as the soft, dry cotton his shirt kisses your now semi-dry skin. Some of his cologne even doing some work to staunch the alcohol fumes.

Once you come back up, you see him by the stairs and make your way over. He lets you go first, gesturing to the steps with an extended arm parallel to the rusted metal railing.

There’s a spring in your step despite the reminder of what could’ve been a ruined evening still cradled in your arms. But then immediately after thinking of your ruined shirt, you can’t help but think of Jimin and how helpful and fun it’s been just getting to know him in such a short amount of time. It makes you happy, half-tipsy or not.

“So, favorite Ghibli movie?” you ask, looking at him over your shoulder. He looks like he’s debating something from the way his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, but as soon as he finds your gaze trained on him, he simply runs a hand through his hair and smiles at you.

“How much are you gonna judge me if I say Spirited Away?”

You scoff, a smile curving on your lips, “I would not, that’s a classic! Who am I to judge?”

“Good, ‘cuz yeah. That one.” He says this right as you ask, “So, why that one?”

You two laugh, unconsciously slowing down as you reach about halfway down the stairs.

There’s a point where it levels out, a particular drop that is about a step and a half farther than you remember. The sudden loss of footing that you must’ve miscalculated happens far too quickly, and your heart is practically thundering in your chest like after you’ve abruptly woken up from one of those dreams where you’re falling. But it’s in that moment where your brain is even more aware than usual, its hyperactivity sensitive to the feeling of his chest pressed against your back. His arm latched around your shoulders like an awkward back hug, but you don’t really notice it so much because 1) he’s so goddamn warm and 2) he’s still holding onto you even after you’ve gotten your balance back.

“Careful there,” he laughs, his grip on you firm and slightly calloused but still gentle. He leans close to your ear with a lighthearted titter. “Maybe you aren’t just tipsy after all.”

You retort, trying to hide the fact that you nearly toppled over, because you’ll be damned to acknowledge that part of the reason might’ve been due to him and his close proximity. “Maybe the beer fumes are messing with my motor functions, thanks to someone.”

He points out, “Well, you have a clean shirt on so what’s your excuse now?”

“Secondhand beer fumes from my skin, duh.” You look over at him when his arm slips away from your shoulders (despite your hand acting on its own accord to brush against his right hand), watching as his eyes form adorable half moons. The hickory hues aren’t focused on some ridiculous scene at the party in amusement either; in fact, they’re trained on you. “What?”

“You’re really cu—”

“—Jimin!” Before you can hear his answer, there’s a loud shrill of discombobulated sounds at the edge of the partying group. There are four boys beckoning your new friend over, goofy grins plastered all over their visages even in the incandescent street lamps lighting the general vicinity. The red-haired one is whispering something to the chestnut brunet and another brunet different from the one earlier appears to be laughing about something while the dark brunet with the doe eyes looks on expectantly.

Jimin catches your attention by speaking: “Sorry.” He scratches the back of his head, breaking your eye lock to see his friends still waving at the bottom. “I better get going before they get annoying.”

“Wait, what were you gonna say?” you ask, raising a brow at him. You feel inclined to ask, though you would’ve been fine to let him go anyway. You just can’t help but want to keep him there just a little longer. You notice that when he glances over at the quad of boys, he actually appears more embarrassed than hesitant.

“Right, I’m sure they can spare this a second… I think?” he lets out a small huff, part of it exhaling as a laugh, a rather nervous one at that. His cheeks dust with a prevalent shade of rouge, his plush, pink lips parted to repeat his previous words: “I was saying you’re really—”

Until the sound of your name halts him, breaking your attention from him to your own red-haired friend waving at you with a free hand. She says something but you can hardly hear her as you feel guilt creep up on you for the sudden interruption and it only deepens as both of your friends continue to wait there with expectant expressions (and that’s enough for you feel unnerved because you assured Jisoo you wouldn’t be meeting anyone at the party either).

“Jimin, hurry up!”

His hand grazes yours as you both walk onto the sand toward your respective friends, both parties seemingly watching the exchange with a glint in their eyes that neither of you could necessarily decipher from the dim lighting and from the sheer uncertainty. Of course, you’re absolutely certain that Jisoo’s going to inquire further about him, her eyes are wider than ever because the shirt on your form is not the slick T-shirt from earlier but rather a bigger and baggier one that’s fitted for a guy. And you can already hear murmurs from the boys awaiting Jimin, something about Yoongi and Joon, so you assume they’re going to meet up with their other friends.

You barely look at him as you both arrive to your friends, though you catch sight of the shy smile on his lips at the jeering of the four other guys. Many of which have gotten a better look at you underneath the light before turning their attention back on the dark-haired man and slapping him on the back as they lead him back to the beach for an excursion of games, perhaps even some actual partying now that the rest of the goers have lit the bonfire.

He tips his head back toward you one last time, a small smile in your direction until the taller brunet leans over to whisper something. Of what, you have no clue so you just watch for a split second before your gaze flickers back to your red-haired friend. You sneak a look but you don’t see him because the small group has already managed to disappear into the sea of people.   

You begin walking once Jisoo latches an arm around you, smiling mischievously. “New shirt? And a boy?” she comments before taking a sip of her cup. “Please tell me you’re gonna share the details.”

With a laugh, slipping your arm out of her grasp to sling it around her shoulders. “Honestly? His name’s Jimin and he was the beer-spiller.”

Jisoo looks at you, slack-jawed. She guffaws, “You’re kidding! You didn’t kill him either. Wow, you must be getting softer considering he didn’t come back crying.”

Even just the mention of that incident has you huffing, “Shut up. That was one time!”

“Anyway, he’s hot, Y/N. Kudos for scoring his number,” she says, bumping your hip. You let her move you, but she wraps an arm around your waist to keep you beside her.

It dawns on you that the one thing you did not do was one of the most simplest, especially considering you’d have to return his shirt sometime. Literally all you had to do was ask, yet it managed to go over your head. “Well…”

She tilts her head at you and asks, “You didn’t get his number?” 

Fuck, now how am I going to return this to him?

From the silence she receives, your best friend has her answer but that doesn’t deter her from straightening her head and grinning at you even wider than earlier.

With furrowed brows and a semi-scowl on your lips, because what did she know that you didn’t? You inquire, “What?”

“I mean Jennie tells me that just means he intends to see you again. Preferably before the night ends.”

“That’s ridi—”

“—Is it though?” She even arches her brow at you. “You do have his shirt. Even better if it’s his favorite one. And from the looks of it, you two seemed to be getting along quite well.”

Still, you shrug, trying not to read too much into the whole fiasco. No matter how attractive Jimin is, you have a way of rationalizing your way out of those sorts of speculations.

Perhaps he just forgot.

“I’m not too worried about it. Whatever happens will happen.”

She rolls her eyes at you, pinching your side and ignoring the yelp you give. She again ignores you and the pointed glare you send her way, “At the very least just know that his friends are pretty certain he digs you.” 

“You heard them?” She nods, chugging down the rest of the cup’s contents. You harden your features just to see the pout on her face, simply responding, “That doesn’t change anything.”

Because it doesn’t.

“Brat,” she say, tapping your head with the empty cup. “Let’s just go drink and dance. Maybe we’ll see your boy toy along the way!”

Before you can protest her comment, she slips out of your grasp and wiggles her hips to the beat of the electronic bass. She beckons you forth with her index fingers, leading the two of you past the heart of the circle and toward the beverages. She grabs another two keg beer cups—obviously (read: thankfully) learning from her initial mistake—and slips one toward you.

She holds her cup out toward you and says, “Cheers!”

You roll your eyes at her, feeling a swelling in your heart as you tap the edge of her cup and utter a fuck it.

“Cheers!”

/

You slip away for a moment. One fucking moment. And you return to your group’s meeting spot after braving a half-hour long line to use the restroom and wiping away the sweat that accumulated at the corners of your forehead with the back of your hand, powering through the burn in your thighs from an hour-and-a-half long dance session with the girls—and that in itself has become nothing more than a blur of swaying, bass, and heat emitting from your friends’ bodies—and the minor headache throbbing in the back of your head. All for the crowd (that has already gotten significantly smaller than earlier) without Chungha, Lisa, or Jennie in sight.

Jisoo’s there, perched on a log in all her red-haired glory by her lonesome, somehow swaying to the beat of the song. The previous DJ must’ve left because the music is different from earlier, much more akin to songs blasting radio music from a portable speaker than the songs playing earlier on an actual speaker system. But all you can think is where the fuck did our friends go? Because you’d be damned not to spot Lisa’s orange hair anywhere, but for reasons beyond you, she isn’t there.

“Where’s everybody?” When you take a seat beside her, she cranes her head toward you with a smile curled on the corner of her lips but still no answer. “Ji—”

She lays her head on your shoulder. “They left!”

You blink, trying to meet her eyes in some way but they’ve shut already. “What do you mean they left? They’re our rides.”

“I told them about Jimin.”

You groan, fearing that the answer you have in your head is the one she’s about to tell you. “Why would you do that? What did you even say?”

“That he’s your cute boy. ‘nd you didn’t get his number yet,” she answers, trying to bury her head further into your body.

“So that made them leave?” You know damn well that Chungha wouldn’t have done that unless someone told her they’d manage a ride otherwise.

“I said that we’d manage.” she pouts at your visible frown. “I’m helping you!”

You groan loudly, shaking her off to kneel in front of her. Her whines are pointedly ignored as the log becomes her pillow. “You dummy! Why would you give up our ride like that?”

“He’ll give us a ride,” she says, opening one of her eyes. “I know what’m doin’.”

You glare at her, raising a brow. “And how do you know that?”

“B’cuz his friends said they’d carpool with other people so he’d have room for you.”

You blink, tilting your head at her as both eyes shut once again. You continue to look at her anyway. You’re unsure of how to feel exactly with this news considering the reality that you two are half an hour away from campus without a ride. Of course, you could always call Chungha back but that was your last resort with the chance that security wouldn’t allow her to leave without signing out. And the hard truth is a part of you kind of liked the news Jisoo just supplied you with; you hadn’t even said a word about Jimin supplying his friends with rides, making her story check out to some degree. But the glaring extent was the fact that her own credibility was compromised by the simple fact that she was very much drunk so whether it was true (you hoped) or not was entirely a crapshoot.

That alone has your legs ready to give out from underneath you at the sheer exhaustion of the situation. Even if she was correct about Jimin (you highly doubted it) that still meant trying to find him and coaxing a ride out of him. It might’ve been possible if he hadn’t left already and he was just that nice of a person but there was still no saying who had left and stayed from the looks of the party. Plus, you hadn’t seen him once since you two parted ways (and you know damn well you looked as best as you could in your position).

“For all we know, he could’ve left already,” you sigh, looking over at Jisoo as her features contorted now that the alcoholic influences were catching up to her. You would’ve laughed had you not felt so stressed. You stand up to ease your stomach and look around for any familiar faces—Jimin or not—for the sole reason in asking any other friend of yours for a ride back to the school. 

“Maybe someone we know is still around.” you say, turning on your heel to go back into the crowd. You crane your head back over to Jisoo, only slightly scowling (not that she could see it) to say, “Stay put, I’m gonna go find us a ride.”

“Bu—”

“—No but’s. Just stay,” you huff, already walking into the even sparser circle. You don’t spot anyone you know, feeling a knot of anxiety formulate in the pit of your stomach.

Goddammit Jisoo.

“Fu—” you stop yourself, stay calm.

You’d like to think you’re a relatively calm person anyway, especially as you’re walking past unfamiliar people who are doing a mix of actual dancing and half-assed swaying. Even with no one somewhat familiar in sight, whether it’s a floormate or someone from the same dorm building, you try to keep your cool as you weave between bodies, feeling the heat of the fire as you stop at the outskirts of the group circle to catch your breath.

Damm—

“—Y/N?” You blink at the sudden feeling a hand on your shoulder. Out of a reflex, you reach over and almost smack the perpetrator’s chest with an open palm when it registers that the voice belongs to the very devil himself—Jimin.

“Jimin?” you ask, looking over at him and dropping your hand. “You’re still here?”

He laughs, looking the same as ever—still breathtakingly handsome—as he says, “Yeah. I was just helping my DJ friend pack up and load his stuff.”

You muse, “No wonder the music started sucking just a few moments ago.”  

He smile broadly, “I’ll be sure to tell him that everything he played was a hit.” He tilts his head over at you, “you’re still here. Did you lose your friend?”

You shake your head, feeling a little embarrassed to admit the true circumstances of your predicament but he continues to look at you patiently. “The rest of my friends left, so I’m looking for a ride for me and my best friend actually.”

He just laughs and says, “How about I give you two a ride then?”

Dammit, Jisoo.

You’re scratching the back of your head, feeling your own cheeks give away your emotions. At least until his words register and then you say, “What about your friends? I thought you’re in charge of carpool?”

“My friends ditched me for another driver.” he fake sniffs, straightening his head. “So, what do you say?”

“You’re sober right?”

He nods, holding up his hand. “As sober as can be. Scout’s Honor.” He sniffs indignantly, “I was the DD earlier after all.”

It’s nothing to really ponder that intensively, his offer is simply out of convenience after all, so you make the executive decision of nodding. “Sure,” you smile as he does. “First the shirt, now a ride home. You’re seriously a lifesaver.”

He winks, extending his arm outward to say, “I have to make up for being a beer spiller somehow. Lead the way.”

As you begin toward Jisoo, you can’t help but look over at Jimin and say, “Y’know your friends planned on ditching you right? Jisoo overheard them.”

He exhales sharply, nodding. “I suspected that when Yoongi—that DJ friend of mine—sent me back onto the beach to double check if he left anything. And believe me, if you knew him then you’d know how anal he is about leaving anything out. Especially his equipment.”

“This wasn’t some plot of yours to get me by my lonesome was it?” you ask, raising a brow at him. You make sure not to sound too serious, because you would actually be flattered that he would (solely based on the assumption and hope that he wasn’t a psychopath, of course). “You’re not going to kill me on the side of the road or somethin’?”

His brows have since arched upwards at the beginning of these inquiries; however, it isn’t long until he’s giggling as they register. “Don’t worry. As much as I was hoping to see you again, this wasn’t intentional on my end.” By now the two of you are a good meter away from Jisoo. “And, for the record, I am not going to murder you on the side of the road. Or murder you, period. Mind reading powers or not, I’d prefer you live long enough to save the world.”

“And how do you know I intend to use these powers for good?” you quip, earning a laugh from him. You turn your attention on Jisoo when you’re a good foot from the log she’s still perched on. “Chu, you good?”

The aforementioned raises her head, one eye peeking open as she gives a small shake of her head.

“My tummy hurts. T’won’t stop going ‘grrr!’” she whines, turning onto her back. Luckily, she has a large green flannel to keep her warm from the oceanside air beginning to roll in now that midnight was bleeding into 1AM. It’s almost hard to believe that time has flown by this much, but even just trying to recollect everything is hazy on your brain at the moment.

You’re about to say something but your best friend beckons you forth (which you unwittingly acquiesce and kneel in front of her) and cups her hand around her mouth to loudly whisper, “Can we get something to eat?”

“I dunno if Jimin—”

“Sure, we can.” He smiles at you when you crane your head up at him. “How does 7-Eleven ramen sound?”

To which, Jisoo lets out a cry of happiness.

/

The car glides across the roadway, while a soft ocean breeze passing between the cracked windows. There’s music playing softly, though you don’t know the song that well, you can’t help but smile as you hear Jimin hum along. He looks like he’s in his element even in that briefest instance, completely sober without another thought or worry in the world as he turns into the semi-familiar parking lot, with the bright lights of the 7-Eleven peeking into the car. Their windows are adorned with falling posters of Big Gulps and coffee, but those do nothing to make your mouth water compared to the small cups of ramen adorning the shelves.

Looking down at Jisoo, her head still nestled atop your thighs and eyes still shut tightly, you actually feel a little bad for disturbing her from the much needed rest she’s going to need after tonight’s adventure. But the idea of her stomach hurting after ingesting all that alcohol makes you lean forward and poke her cheek, though that does nothing to stir her. As you whisper her name, allowing the tips of your hair to graze her face, you see her nose scrunch.

She doesn’t say anything above a whisper, “I want chicken ramen.”

She raises her head only to give you enough room to scoot out but she curls back into a ball and lays her head down onto the seat. “J’st go! ‘M tired.”

“Alright, one chicken ramen coming right up,” you sigh, giving her shoulder a pat before shutting the door. You’re immediately met by the cold and Jimin, the latter shoots your friend a sympathetic look before he turns to you.

His brows are drawn upward as he asks, “she okay?”

While he makes sure the doors are locked, you respond, “Just sleepy. She requests chicken ramen.”

“Beef’s where it’s at,” he laughs, beginning to walk alongside you toward the well-lit building and the solace of warmth. You can practically feel the heater as you’re underneath the proximity of the store’s brick-red canopy.

“Right?” You pass him by as he opens the door for you, letting the door flutter shut behind and banishing the cool air.

Inside is as comforting as the sight outside with a long green table by the hot water kettle toward the right upon entering to the cozily placed shelves that made the vicinity feel a lot smaller than you would think. Albeit it’s brighter than your eyes have adjusted to, you do so gradually and feel the blasting heat smoothing your gooseflesh away. It’s pretty much a utopia of brightly packaged snacks and other roadside foods, with the scent of coffee beans wafting the air alongside the distinct pinch of sugar that has your stomach rumbling even more than before. Your cheeks are still cool to the touch, but you know that it’d burn on any other given chance.

“Hungry?” Jimin quips though he receives no response, just a small, playful eye roll. Nudging your shoulder, he begins to lead you toward the goods by hand. His palms are still remarkably warm, and still notably soft as he sifts through the shelves for the desired packages. Soon enough, he comes back with two beef-flavored and a chicken-flavored Maruchan soups. 

The cashier accepts Jimin’s money before you can fish out your wallet, pointing the two of you to the hot water stations. The latter doesn’t look back at you, only accepting the narrowed look you shoot his way until after he receives the receipt. Of course, you wouldn’t have minded paying for yours and Jisoo’s but you still admit your gratitude to him since he did pay (and did so much more) after all.

When he comes to the table bearing the gift of the glorious noodles, you move Jisoo’s still packaged soup to the side so your food is front of you. With a pair of chopsticks bestowed to you, you smile at him and get ready to say yet another admission of gratitude. 

“Seriously, thank you,” you say, allowing him to fill the cups by holding the chopsticks. “You’ve done more than enough for me tonight.”

He meets your eyes, looking at you with a soft smile. He replies, “It’s no problem. You haven’t been a burden or anything.”

“Are you just saying that?” you ask, raising a brow. “Because I’ll try to repay you somehow.”

“You don’t have to—”

You laugh, trying to look even more stern though probably failing, “Oh yes I do! I work at the campus coffee shop by the Quad, so please come by okay? I can bestow you with the best gift all college students would kill for.”

His eyes light up. “Free textbooks?”

You laugh again, giving his arm a light smack. “Me and you both wish I could do that.”

“Well, I’ll remember your offer the next time I need a caffeine fix then.”

“Promise?” You don’t mean to be so childish but of course you can’t help but stick your pinky finger out just to see what he’ll do. It’s a little thrilling to see just how he’ll respond to your antics, not that many people can truly say they agree with them, but seeing him as he laughs and goes along with it makes you very happy.

Hell, he even presses his thumb to yours and says with feigned solemnity, “I promise.”

A comfortable silence falls over you two, giving you an opportunity to dig into the cup of noodles. You relish in the taste, allowing the warmth to soothe your muting stomach and feeling a lot more sober. It’s nice just to sit there beside Jimin, knowing that Jisoo’s comfortably in the backseat of his car where she couldn’t be causing any more trouble or running all over the place had she taken something with a little more strength. You know she won’t mind you eating now, with her resting for tomorrow, she’s sure to unleash a ball of gloating your way because she was right about what she told you on the beach. Still, you hope she forgets so you don’t have to hear about it.

As you glance over at Jimin yet again, the reminder of what you were supposed to ask him strikes you. He’s just eating like yourself and looking just as peaceful. He seems to feel your stare, turning to meet your gaze.

“Yeah?” he says after finishing his bite of food.

You do the same, muttering an apology before you say, “I have two questions for you.”

“S’fine, shoot.”

As you’re placing your chopsticks atop of the cup, you ask, “What were you going to tell me at the party? Y’know before we were so rudely interrupted by your friends and mine?”

He laughs at your exaggeration but it sounds off by a few octaves, causing you to narrow your eyes ever-so-slightly. He scratches the back of his head, this time a breathy chuckle chases after his sharp exhale. “You still remember that?”

You laugh, noting the way his cheeks turned an even rosier shade of red. “I might’ve been sort of tipsy but I’m certainly not an amnesiac.”

“Well…”

“What?” You tilt your head to the side, a smirk teasing at the corners of your lips, “shy all of a sudden?”

“Kind of? Like I said before, you’re so open and upfront it seems so random to tell you.” He admits sheepishly, “Plus, I have a very strong feeling that this is gonna come off as either very fuckboy or very cheesy to you.” 

When he rolls his eyes and cheeks still reddening, you amend the situation just a bit, obviously still very much curious. “C’mon you can tell me. It wouldn’t be as random as saying you like the swedish meatballs from IKEA or something.“

He bursts into laughter, eliciting a smile of your own, again. Your brain is very loud and clear in voicing just how nice that smile of his is, and you’re not even going to attempt to deny that much. Instead you focus on his lips as he says, “True, well,” he pauses, glancing at the table. “I was gonna say you looked really cute earlier.”

“How so?” You add as you see his mouth open, “That’s not my second question, by the way. Consider it a follow-up and totally unrelated.”

He nods, still smiling, “Just when you were teasing me it struck me even more than when I first approached you.”

This time you nod, happy to see his eyes so you can say, “Well, thank you.”

”You’re welcome.”

After a moment, the two of you actually taking that break to get another bite of the noodles, he says, “So, question two?”

“Oh right!” you say, still holding onto your chopsticks. “How am I supposed to get this shirt back to you?”

He doesn’t say anything immediately afterwards. Like at all. He just pauses, eyes darting to the solace of the soup. The rouge on his cheeks are creeping upward like vines, decorating his skin with flowers blooming on a spring day, and it actually makes you curious as to what he’s thinking. From what you’ve accessed about him, he’s a bit of a flirt with loads of bashfulness peeking between the cracks. Definitely the type to know what he wants, but not the kind to know how to voice it too seriously. Just the fact that he’s struggling to articulate himself makes him even more adorable especially when that conflicted expression of his melts into something akin to confidence.

“I was thinking we could actually exchange numbers….” he answers, slowly meeting your eyes.

“Who knew you were one for being forward?” you say, leaning closer to his pink-cheeked visage. “Sure.”

He can’t help but remain trained where he is, probably registering the fact that you are indeed this close without a bat of your eyelashes. Of course, your brain is screaming at you for being this close in his proximity, but another part of you doesn’t seem to care. In fact, if you lacked any more self-control than you already did, you might’ve actually leaned in to kiss him.

He suddenly blurts out, “Y-you look good in my shirt.”

His fingertips graze the hem gingerly before he looks back up at you raising a brow at him. The deathly serious look on your face only lasting long enough for you to ask, “Is that your way of saying that I can keep it then...?”

And right then, he does that thing where he throws his head back and laughs again, “No! I actually really like this shirt, okay?”

You hold your hands up in surrender, replying as soon as it seems like he has nothing more to say, “Thank you.”

When you look down at your styrofoam cup, you find it a devoid of noodles and much soup. Much like Jimin, the two of you are quite dismayed at the lack thereof, because it means you have to part ways. You know you have to go, but it feels like you’re only just beginning to get to know him. And still, there’s feels like there’s more to do even if what you have visualized in the back of your mind is merely an impulse touch of your lips and caress of fingertips. You’re feeling brave too. Maybe it’s the booze or maybe it’s your own brain telling you not to miss out on this moment, because carpe diem right? (Or carpe noctem to be more specific?) You’re young and isn’t this the type of shit you’re supposed to do on nights like this anyway?

Before you can say a word, he slides his phone open and pulls up the dialer. “Number?”

You recite the digits for him. He does the same for you, even posing for a contact photo just for you. He’s simply smiling but the way his eyes form half moons, and his lips stretch across his face, revealing his dimples makes you feel smile as well.

“You want your picture taken too?” You laugh, smiling anyway. He snaps it quickly, looking satisfied. But he can’t seem to take his eyes off you as he sets his phone down.

“What?” you tilt your head at him.

“You look really cute.”

“You told me that already,” you giggle, leaning on your elbow and unconsciously moving closer to him.

“You tell me something then,” he suggests, following in your example.

“I’d let you kiss me right now.”  

He lets out a small laugh directed to himself as he mutters, “Jesus, you’re really the forward one here.”

Curiosity washes over your eyes as you ask, “But would you let me?”

He pretends to think for a moment, glancing at you with feigned exaggeration and a smile. “Yeah, I truthfully would.”

You decide it can’t hurt. You’re young and maybe this is dumb, but you certainly can’t say that this is something you’ll regret. Perhaps after you return the shirt, you’ll never see him again. His numbers nothing more than a forgotten contact like the ones you accumulate within a quarter until they become useless in the next one. It’s a pessimistic way to see new people, but you know that’s just the reality of college.

Before you can lean in, he looks at you earnestly and asks, “You won’t regret this, right?”

You shake your head, leaning in closer, “and you won’t either, right?”  

This time he doesn’t answer, you assume for fear that he might not actually be able to respond with a stutter or even a show of hesitance, but determination washes over his features in the most minute way you almost miss it. And the thudding of your heart ricocheting all around your chest is the only thing you can hear besides the thrum of the slurpee machine besides you.

You can feel Jimin’s hand finds its way onto the far side of your face, comfortably placed at the juncture between your start of your jawline and your hairline. He leans in first and kisses you.

And, of course, you kiss him right back.

#btswriters #bts writing squad #bangtan bookclub #btssunshinenet #ot7network #bdcnetwork #park jimin scenarios #jimin scenarios #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin au #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts au #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #jimin x reader #emswriting #double post bc yolo #edited this baby all day........ LOL #but i'm pleased so

[izumitate]

moonbound

kurodai week day 3: partners in crime

A space opera AU! Featuring scrappy Nekoma pirates, a decade long enemy-ship, and Daichi’s readiness to fight everybody in the galaxy. Content warning: contains mentions of violence and bodily harm.

Kuroo can feel his knuckles blanching white as he clutches at the armrest of Shibayama’s seat. His navigator is leaned so forward he looks like he might pitch right into the console at any moment, but Kuroo doesn’t want to disturb him while he’s calculating their best escape route with only his eyes, seconds before they need to make a decision. Ahead, the towering spires of Kamomedai’s financial sector stand jagged and crystalline, and will come away barely untouched when their ship finally collides with one of the armored glass walls and shatters into space debris.

“Lev, pull up! Pull up!” Kuroo hisses when he can’t take it anymore, but his pilot just laughs.

“It’s fine, captain! Not until Shibayama says so.” He turns them effortlessly around the next ‘spherescraper but continues his low course, skimming the skyline.

The only thing on their tail right now is the persistent first cruiser that caught them speeding out of the slums, but Kuroo knows from the klaxons sounding outside that it’s only a matter of minutes before an entire police battalion takes after them.

“Okay,” Shibayama finally says, pointing at the next monstrous crystal obtrusion on their right. The magnitude of its size is a step up from the others; must be a central bank for the planetside elite. “Lev, put on a burst of speed to get to the other side of that bank, and once you’re there, ascend as fast as possible. There’s a ton of floating condos up by the stratosphere, but you can handle it, right?”

“Of course I can!” Lev punches the accelerator and they shift violently forward, careening around and out of sight of their pursuer. He does exactly as Shibayama says, taking them almost vertical as he slams their ship up, up, up as fast as this engine can take them – which reminds Kuroo that they need to get a patch job done as soon as they’re back in the rogue quadrant – even as the sound of patrollers gathers behind them.

But Shibayama is right, as usual, and when Lev takes them into the overladen golden clusters of the floating apartments that only the richest can afford, their tiny ship flows through the maze of arches and gardens with ease, Lev’s skills weaving them without trouble out of the tangled airpark. They take the chance to finally put on the thrusters and break out of Kamomedai’s orbit while the police are mired in the gilded complex below.

Once free, Lev gives the rest of them a brief warning before putting on speed, so they’ll be well on their way to another star system by the time the police leave the planet. That, combined with the best cloaking system that underworld credits can buy, should keep them safe long enough to make it back to home base.

“We’re free and clear, team,” Kuroo calls to those below deck. By now Akane and Kai should’ve gotten Inuoka’s scrape taken care of; it was a minor injury, which means they don’t have to bother stopping by any outpost on their way back. “Headed home.”

“Sounds good, captain!” comes Akane’s voice echoing against the steel walls before she begins scolding Inuoka for getting up too quickly. Yaku’s voice joins the din and soon the whole ship is clattering with noise again, just the way Kuroo expects it to be.

Outside, the barren expanse of space between here and the safe haven of the unbound territories is comforting, as is the quiet. Nothing but stars to light their way back.

--

Nekoma calls the ramshackle colony of Spring Heights their home, though during most cycles their ship is home enough for the crew. Spring Heights is the most ironically named planetoid on this side of Andromeda, and it’s a hub of underworld activity. Kuroo rarely takes a job before first running it by his information network planetside, because who knows what kind of nonsense you could get embroiled in alone with some unknown party in the outer reaches. This is a lesson he learned long before he had his own people, when he was still a kid running jobs for some two-bit privateers who’d survived on luck instead of smarts. A broken leg, a crater canyon, and three gunfights later, Kuroo had realized he wasn’t working with anyone he hadn’t chosen himself anymore.

Nekoma is the team he built from the ground up with Kenma, who is the only thing more constant in Kuroo’s life than the call of the endless dark, the cosmic dust in his veins. He trusts them with everything, and it’s part of the reason why he never decides alone whether to take on a new job. This time around, he gets word from Johzenji that there’s a job specifically requesting to employ Nekoma; it comes down from Misaki, so Kuroo’s tempted to take it just on principle, but that’s the kind of messy thinking that gets people shipjacked even if she’s one of the most reliable info brokers he knows.

He agrees to meet the client out at Sumida Outpost, located on the outskirts of snake country because he knows that even though Daishou hates his guts, and even though he’s a dirty, thieving bastard, his territories are always well-defended and nominally hospitable toward others of their profession.

As usual, most of the crew stays behind under Kai’s command, busy with everyday tasks like sprucing up the ship and fencing their goods. Kuroo takes their secondary ship with Kenma, Yaku and Yamamoto, and they head off for the grungy, scorpion-ridden tavern Yaku favors at Sumida.

Even before they land Kuroo gets a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it’s different from his flight instinct. There’s a spark of danger in the air, though he could also write that off as the dissatisfied static that always buzzes around dry, end of the road towns like this.

The tavern is dimly lit as always, and filled with the sounds of cards shuffling and deals being made. The smell of tobacco and ale and burnt meat hang heavy in the air, and it’s difficult to see through the veil of smog as they make their way toward their usual corner table next to the blown out window. The person seated there is staring out at the dunes that stretch on and on in gray and tan bands to the horizon. Kuroo can’t make out any details of their client’s face until he’s close enough to touch.

“Hello, captain. It’s been a while,” says the calm, terrifying voice of Imperial Vice Admiral Sawamura Daichi a split second before the air clears and Kuroo can make out more than his silhouette shrouded in tavern smoke. It doesn’t speak well to Kuroo’s preservation instincts that his first thought is damn, just as hot as I remembered and not danger!!

“Shit,” Yaku curses, hand jumping to his gun faster than Kuroo can say a word. At least one of them is still on it. Yamamoto shifts immediately in front of Kenma, fully prepared to shield him from any harm with his own body. But even though Kuroo’s body is reflexively poised to spring away, his heart remains steady. The Imperial Navy might be the scum on the bottom of a comet hopper’s shoe, but he’s known Sawamura for over a decacycle now, and he knows that the man would never initiate an attack against one of Kuroo’s subordinates unless he had made certain to kill Kuroo first. There’s a degree of integrity in him that most Imperial officers don’t possess.

Sawamura makes no move to stand or draw to fire; instead, he raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. Around them, activity in the tavern continues, no one disturbed by this turn of events the way Nekoma is, which Kuroo supposes either speaks well for the situation, or it means everyone in the building is going to die. Even out here in the boondocks, the name and face of one of New Miyagi’s best military commanders is known and feared, so why isn’t anyone else surprised to see him?

“If it helps put your mind at ease, Yaku-san, I came unarmed. You can check if you want.” And he looks down at his waist, folding his hands casually atop his head. Yaku wastes no time flipping open Sawamura’s coat and patting him down.

“He’s not lying,” Yaku says, but one hand remains at his holster and his eyes never leave Sawamura even as he backs away. “But I don’t trust him yet.”

“That’s fair. But I didn’t call you out here to hunt you down,” Sawamura tells him. He gestures at the bench on the other side of the table. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I actually really do have a job for you.” No one moves.

“Forgive me if I find that a little unbelievable, vice admiral. Seeing as the last time we met you gave me a good bonk on the head for my troubles, and strafed most of the left side of my ship right off,” Kuroo says mildly. His eyes flick down to watch the way Sawamura’s mouth twitches into a quick smile before he tries to look neutral again.

“If I remember correctly, you gave me a nice parting gift too, Kuroo-san.” He reaches up to tug aside the right sleeve of his dusty tunic (and isn’t that a look, Sawamura Daichi out of that crisp uniform and dressed like a meteor rat like the rest of them) and bares the long sword burn Kuroo left him with two cycles ago, back on one of Tsubakihara’s lesser moons.

“It looks good on you?” Kuroo tries to sound remorseful, but it had been one hell of a fight that he probably would’ve been laughing his way through if his crew hadn’t been scrambling all over the deck, desperately putting up patch shields where they could. Even now he can remember with perfect clarity the taste of adrenaline and dust against his clenched teeth as he finally knocked Sawamura off the roof of their ship to be bubbled back to his own fleet. Crazy bastard hadn't let up on Kuroo for a second, even if it meant almost getting fried by one of his own ships’ artillery. Then again, Kuroo has no room to speak. He’d almost dragged them both down into a death marsh during a knife fight once. “Rugged. Everyone digs a good scar.”

“Yeah, my whole unit wolf-whistles every time I walk by,” Sawamura says with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, can you blame them? You’re too handsome to be wasted in your line of work. Come take a walk on the wild side. We’re prettier and we have more fun.”

Sawamura laughs when Kuroo winks at him. “I suppose one of those statements is true.”

Just like that they’re bantering again, the way they always do before one of them inevitably draws a weapon. Kuroo can sense Kenma’s sigh long before he hears it.

“What kind of job could you have for people like us?” Kenma asks, sliding back into view, even though Yamamoto still has an arm held protectively out in front of him. He watches Sawamura with what looks like a disinterested face, but Kuroo knows better. He’s intrigued, albeit still on his guard.

“Honestly, ‘people like you’ are the only ones I would trust with this. I need a certain skill set – one that Nekoma’s proven to excel at – and I need a group of people I can...I don’t know if trust is the right word, but let’s go with it for now.” Sawamura sits forward looking briefly at each of them in turn. “I know we have a long, volatile history, but it’s also exactly why I think you guys are the people I need to hire for this job. Because I know what your boundaries are, and I know I can count on you not to fuck me over where it counts.”

He looks directly at Kuroo when he says this, and there’s a plain honesty in his eyes that leads Kuroo to finally take a seat across from him, elbows up on the sticky tabletop.

“Alright, that’s enough buttering up. I’ll hear you out. What’s the job?”

“I need to get into Datekou. And I need your help to do it.”

He’s met with silence.

Probably because what he just proposed is beyond insane. The others must feel as shocked as Kuroo does, and it seems for a second that even the rest of the tavern conversation lulls when the name Datekou is spoken aloud. It’s a cursed shroud that settles over their table, instantly dampening the already tense mood.

“Wait- wait a second,” Yamamoto sputters first. “Are you telling me you want to hire us for a jailbreak? From the Iron Wall?”

“Yep. That is exactly what I want.”

“This is a setup,” Yaku announces. “You’re goading is into accepting your highly illegal mission then busting us once we get there. Now, what I’m confused about is why you didn’t pick something that wasn’t a blatant suicide mission.”

“That’s another fair assumption, but I give you my word that I’m completely serious. I didn’t come here to entrap you.” Sawamura flexes one hand, clenching and unclenching in an exercise of control, clearly trying to suppress some emotion as he keeps his voice even. His eyes are incandescent as he continues.

“They have four of my crew locked up in there, and I want them back.”

“Your crew? On what grounds? The Karasuno’s an Imperial ship,” Kuroo says in confusion. Not that the empire’s navy is in any way a stronghold of morality, but for government dogs, the crew of the Karasuno are better than most. Honorable where honor still counts. He can’t imagine they’d have done anything worth being court martialed for.

Sawamura’s laugh is pure bitterness. “The Karasuno was an Imperial ship. Now it’s being junked for scrap. Those of my crew that the court couldn’t frame for treason they reassigned to the outer rim fleet. The cloud skimmers. Ougiminami, Kakugawa. Chidoriyama. They scattered my team, my family, across the stars, and they locked up the rest behind the Iron Wall. I’m taking them back.”

Kuroo swallows down the parched itchiness in his throat at this news. It’s not like Nekoma could ever be friends with a naval crew, but there had always been a kind of mutual respect between themselves and the Karasuno, and this is nothing he ever would have wished on them.

“Well, shit, Sa’amura-san, what the fuck did you do to get your entire ship obliterated?”

“You know me,” Sawamura says, his smile vicious. “Stayed a little too honest. Didn’t look the other way when they insisted. I kept on pushing, kept on playing even after I should have folded.”

“But you never fold,” Kuroo says ruefully.

“No, I don’t,” and it might be the only time he’ll ever sound like he regrets it. “And I still don’t plan to.”

It’s not just simple posturing. After enough encounters, there are a few things Kuroo would say he and Sawamura can tell about each other. One fact is that they share the same tenacity, for better or worse.

This asshole really means it: he would walk right up to the Iron Wall armed with only his black market gun and military issue sword and it would still be Datekou’s mistake for standing in his way. But all logic says that despite Sawamura’s damnable perseverance, he’s dead if he tries whatever idiotic plan he’s come here to talk Nekoma into.

“That’s your prerogative, and I don’t expect any less of you, really, but. Fuck, Sawamura, you know we’re fucked if we take this on, don’t you? Everyone knows that Nekoma’s the best at infiltration that there is, but we’re thieves, not soldiers. We move cargo, not people. And we don’t take a job like this no matter how lucrative. I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can do this.”

Sawamura nods once, understanding. Then he sighs, sounding truly regretful.

“I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to do this, but I think I’m going to have to call in that favor.”

Yamamoto sucks in a harsh breath, and the others fall still. Kenma’s hand twitches at his side, resisting the urge to reach out to Kuroo’s arm. Kuroo himself just rests his hands together on the table and bites his lip once before nodding as well. He might have figured.

Out here, in the lawless territories, on the husk planets fit only for rogues and mercenaries, a life saved is a life owed. And Kuroo knew that when Sawamura inevitably cashed in on that favor he wouldn’t take it lightly, even if he wouldn’t demand outright that Kuroo sacrifice his life for him.

“You know that only promises my service, not that of Nekoma, correct?” Next to him, Kuroo can feel his crewmates tensing, but they all know better to say anything. They know they can’t talk him out of this one.

Sawamura brought Kuroo back from death’s edge once, at the cost of his own arm and half his jaw. Both parts had been grafted back on with the best medi-tech the empire could afford, but it’d been a total shitshow for a while there, the two of them stranded alone on the ice and iron hull of a downed Inarizaki starfighter. Kuroo only remembers fever-dream flashes of the event, too far gone on whatever the foxes had gassed him with as he shoved Alisa and Fukunaga into the last escape pod. Sawamura found him lying barely conscious on the stern of the ship, and rescued him from being slaughtered by one of Inarizaki’s automated guards. Fucking fox militants and their stupid fucking robots.

“C’mon now, Kuroo, I can’t you die at the hands of the Federation. You’re pirate scum, but you’re still an Imperial citizen,” Sawamura told him, hitching him higher on his back and trundling on through the blood and shrapnel splattered snow.

“Like fuck I am,” Kuroo mumbled out, too woozy to banter.

“Save your breath until you’ve got enough brainpower for a witty comeback.”

Sawamura carried his useless rag doll body all the way to the outpost where they could hunker down until help arrived. Kuroo thought they would be safe there: it was converted from a shrine to a makeshift waystation, all stone walls and steel fixtures, but it had been overrun with more Inarizaki infantry automatons. They fought off the droids at great cost, and the last memory Kuroo has of that desolate place before waking up under Kenma and Kai’s watchful guard is of Sawamura, his face a mess of jagged flesh and his left side drenched in blood, cutting down another advancing automaton before it could reach them.

Kai told him later that Sawamura hadn’t even bothered to send a perfunctory ship after them when they came to collect Kuroo. He’d simply waved them off, saying that Kuroo owed him now, and hobbled into the hold of his lieutenants to be rushed back to the medbay of the Karasuno. A full cycle passed before they met again, and they avoided the topic altogether, choosing to mock each other about overcompensating with their weapons, which of course led naturally into trying to shoot one another again.

But Kuroo has never forgotten that debt, and apparently, neither has Sawamura.

“I know. I would never ask you to risk them. Under any other circumstance I wouldn’t ask you to risk yourself either; you could say I’ve developed a strange interest in keeping you alive.” He offers Kuroo the slightest of smiles, and it almost makes him look sad. “But for my crew I would do anything.”

“Understatement of the centicycle. Alright, Sawamura-san, you have me at your disposal,” Kuroo says, finally leaning back in his seat to relax. If he’s going to die like this, then he might as well enjoy the time he has left in the universe. This is a fool’s errand, he knows, but on the one in a million chance they pull any of it off, well. It’ll be the adventure of a lifetime.

“If my captain is in, then so am I,” Yamamoto says quietly, and Kuroo looks sharply over at him.

“No, that’s not your decision to make. Nekoma isn’t a part of this deal.”

“Yeah, it is, Kuroo-san. If you’re in, then I’m in. That’s how it is.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not risking any of you for Sawamura’s death wish-”

“Do you like pretending to be an idiot, or did that bonk really knock some of your sense out of you?” Yaku says, an irritated line cutting into his forehead. “This is a job for Nekoma. You accepted it. Therefore, we’ve all accepted it. Kenma?”

Kenma, the usual voice of reason, just gives Kuroo a tired shrug. “Kuro, we’ll take the offer back to base to discuss, but you know you won’t get anywhere without the rest of us. Tora’s right. If you’re taking the job, then so are we. Is this acceptable?” he asks Sawamura.

“No complaints here. I came to hire Nekoma, after all, not just Kuroo. Though you personally occupy a special place in my life,” Sawamura says dryly, running a thumb across the graft scar running along his cheek.

“In your heart too, I would hope,” Kuroo says automatically, still hung up on the thought of getting his whole crew annihilated over a clearly impossible feat. But the conversation is already moving on without him.

“Before we commit to this, I wanna be sure we know what we’re really getting into,” Kenma says, sliding onto the bench next to Kuroo.

“Of course. Ask away.”

“Strategy, logistics, personnel – are you willing to leave it all up to us?”

“I trust you to do whatever needs doing, yes. And I’ll finance whatever you need me to, on top of your payment.”

“Okay. This will take some time to get together; they’re not on death row are they? Good. One last time, I need to check. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? Even knowing you’re more than certain to die?”

Sawamura doesn’t waver in the slightest. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“You’re already lucky your men are just imprisoned instead of up for execution,” Kenma warns. “But if you try this, they won’t pardon you again. Ignoring the fact that it’s virtually impossible to get into Datekou, let alone get back out – even if we somehow miraculously succeed, you’re dead the second any of you ever set foot on Imperial territory again. You’ll be worse off than even we are.”

“I know, and I don’t care. They lost me the moment they took my crew from me.”

“What happened to you?” Yaku asks abruptly. “They took your men, took your ship, but for someone like you- the less you have, the more dangerous you are. Why would they let you stay around?”

“Divine intervention, I guess you could call it. An old friend on the flagship Seijou pulled me for one of his smaller ships, and I’m too fucking decorated for the empire to just throw me to the wolves. They want me to waste a few years before they can reassign me to a frontline ship and hopefully get myself killed on some nameless moon in the middle of nowhere. I figured I would do them the favor of getting out of their hair before then.” He says it matter of factly, like he decided this life-changing course of action over tea one day.

“And cause an intergalactic riot in the process?” Kuroo asks, impressed by how far off the deep end Sawamura has decided to dive in one go.

“Why not? I’ve always been committed to justice, not order, captain. The empire has made it clear to me they do not value justice, so I’ll take it into my own hands.” There’s that shadow again, the one that lingers behind Sawamura’s brown eyes whenever he carries the weight of more than just himself. Kuroo can only see it when he’s really looking for it, but there’s something that lurks in the corners of Sawamura’s soul that’s just as dangerous as the rest of him, albeit in a different way.

“You know, I always thought you’d make one hell of a pirate. It’s good to know that assumption wasn’t misplaced.”

Sawamura laughs, some of the darkness in his gaze ebbing away. “Funny, I always thought you would have excelled in the navy. Odd how fate works sometimes, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think it was fate that brought you to us today. I think you just take a kind of sadistic pleasure in fucking up my plans for a carefree life, vice admiral.”

“I’m not going to lie to you by denying it, captain.”

It’s kind of fucked up that Kuroo missed this, the dance of words they’d perfected in between trying to stab each other. It’ll be strange, adapting to a new relationship built on more than banter and the chase, but if he’s being honest with himself, he’s always wondered what it might be like if they spent more than thirty heart-racing minutes with each other every time they met. Might as well find out before he dies.

With a grin, he extends his hand across the table, holding just a second too long after Sawamura accepts the handshake. “Alright, Sawamura-san, let’s get your team back.”

#kurodaiweek #kurodai #kuroo tetsurou #sawamura daichi #haikyuu!! #hq fic #partners in crime #space opera #space western #my fic #cw: violence #cw: injury

[begrimedchains]

[Sluggin’]

   @azarovsslayer

Damn it. Damn it you fucking dumbass. Philip cursed himself at his own stupidity, how could he leave something so important out in the open only to have it stolen by that fucking street rat. The spirit paint was one of his most coveted add-ons, it took months to make if he couldn’t materialize it through his blood web. The ingredients were near impossible to find. Acidic ichor from the Entity’s talons which he could only glean from them just after a victim had been killed or if went through the deity’s torture himself; and ectoplasm from the Spirit World that could only be found after long mind melting hours within the second reality. Both substances bound together created a clear ink that glowed with incredible power with proper rituals. Though as soon as he completed his latest batch he was immediately called to a hunt leaving him little time to hide his prize. The anger still burned through him from the moment he saw the street rat wave the small jar the paint was kept in at him as she jumped through the hatch.

From that moment the Wraith had been tracking her every movement, desperate to get his stolen paint back. It wasn’t long until the troublesome nihilist found herself as the prey again but to the Wraiths misfortune her hunter held a chainsaw and not a bell. He paced impatiently around the borders of the blood lodge wanting to set an example for his fellow hunter by not interrupting him. But minutes began to feel like hours as the screams of both the chainsaw and victims didn’t seem to end. His frustration grew to a breaking point as he thought that the street girl would escape again before he could get to her. Cloaking himself, he steps through the border into the junkyard, he didn’t care if he’d receive punishment for assaulting the girl while he was not her hunter. I need the fucking paint back.

His comment towards Billy is fueled with annoyance as he sees the Hillbilly would rather play with the Gods catch than finish his duties. Still cursing himself he frantically gazes across the open plane of the blood lodge hoping to catch sight of his thief. Realizing his appearance back in the real world may have scared the victims into hiding, he turns towards Billy hoping the famed ‘mama’s boy’ was as competent as he gloated.

“Where did you kill the street rat?!”  

  Despite the unapologetic disturbances Billy had caused, quite frequently, on the spirit slayer’s hunts, Phil’s unannounced appearance in the cruel and current affair didn’t seem venomous enough for the Crooked to disregard the intrusion as solely quid pro quo. Not only did Phil fail to fit the profile for the childish rebuttals both he and Evan participated in, in ways as small, but sharp as shitting in any traps purposefully left behind in the fields surrounding Coldwind, but to assume the Wraith would want compensation for his interrupted hunts now of all times seemed an unlikely conclusion in the Crooked’s calculations. To assume otherwise meant that he honestly believed Phil could give two flying lunges about him and his gasoline and blood-soaked business. And seeing as he wasn’t as thoughtless as the fleeing folk often pegged him for purely visual reasons the wicked womb had bestowed upon him, his mind doesn’t even meander over to the possibility of stored pettiness.

  Once his heels hit the crumbled remains of the lodge’s patio, the shock-waves of his landing race evenly through his lopsided frame until he dispels them with a sharp shrug before they can make it past his ears and rattle his brain with the same rumble accompanying every restless rev of the chainsaw. The Wraith may have held some height over his head thanks to leg length and a skull that branched out, but there was far more power stored in the stockier sections of his stance that Billy never needed to bother straightening his crooked spine to feel noticeable in comparison. Thankfully, he has enough balance under his belt to avoid slipping in the blood puddles Jake’s slug trail has left for him to follow into the reeds. Which is why he’s mildly surprised when the bloodhound between them ignores the obvious slime trail to pepper him for cues to coordinate clues. Well, now that he’s somewhat aware of what Phil’s after, the Crooked can take his sweet ass time delaying the bell-keep a swift and informative answer. His gaze falls to the whimpering pile of parka plastered to the patio, a sour taste tuning his tongue. “Ov’iously not on ah hook.” Shaking his head, he hoists the saboteur back onto his shoulder. “Prob’ly crawled off n’died somewhere’s what I reckon. Gimme a sec.”

  A sec is all he needs to stomp into the lodge again, swinging a sharp left to stagger down the basement stairs and sling his final catch onto the sacred hook Jake could only drool and dream about dismantling. Ma’s talons take him graciously, spattering Billy with a little blood for his night of tedious troubles, but he doesn’t stay this time to watch Her ascend, clomping back up the stairway and nearly bowling Phil over in the process. “Now, what’s this all about? ‘Cause I don’t go slug-searchin’ fer shit when they’re already salted.” The porch creaks under his weight as he descends.

#;scavenger slug hunt?? #azarovsslayer #╳ ᵃᵘᵗᵒʰᵃᵛᵉᶰˢ╱ ʀɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ʟᴏᴅɢᴇ

[dreamworksworddump]

Altean Lance Pt.2

(Back by popular demand, more cheese.)

https://voltronworddump.tumblr.com/post/159307572544/alteanlance-pt1

Lance was aware of how barbaric the Heir ascension was for the Galra. Only the offspring most worthy (and most favored by the high court) would survive. There were rumors, sure, that some of Zarkon’s kin had escaped before their ascension, but Lance didn’t believe it. This was a tradition too ingrained in Galra culture for something such as that to be believable. There were safeguards and processes, made just to prevent something like that from happening.

That’s why he didn’t even bother telling Lotor to run.

To attempt to leave was to forfeit not just your life, but your existence. Once you lost, you were dead, but people could still say your name in polite company. If you attempted to run, you were never again acknowledged. It was as if you had never existed in the first place. He had no choice but to fight.

Lance didn't care much for the Gladiator fights, even when Lotor wasn’t the one down there. They were bloody and violent and often to the death. Allura hated them. She often felt sick when she watched them, (or at least feigned illness), and their father always indulged in her, and let her stay in the castle. The appearance of at least the King and one of his heirs was required by tradition, and that meant that Lance had no choice but to watch, and even this one, he wasn’t allowed to skip.

Lotor was his friend, one of his closest. They had spent their childhoods sneaking out of diplomatic meetings and stealing cookies from the castle kitchen. He knew about all of the happenings of the high court ( the important stuff, like which Baroness added another to her hareem, or who had kissed who behind the castle's thrusters.) from Lotor, and had grown to depend on his company. Now he had to watch him die by his father’s hand.

OoOoOoO

Lance doesn't like the new red paladin. Keith. Even his name is annoying. It's a harsh word and it doesn't flow on the tongue like a name should. Even the other Paladins have nicer sounding names.

There's something about him that grates on his nerves. Maybe it's how impulsive he is. Just the other day he left Lance and Hunk and Pidge behind to chase after a druid and to try to find what the cargo was. It was a relatively useless venture that didn't yield any useful information, but let the Galra know of their position. Their leader, Shiro, seems very biased to believe that Keith can do no wrong, and he didn’t even recieve a verbal thrashing from Allura (curse her little crush).

Maybe it’s because he’s adjusting so well. The others still feel homesickness, still dream of this ‘Earth', and of the day when this will all be over (he and Allura haven't got the heart to tell them that they will likely not see the end of this war, nor will their children), but not Keith. He seems just fine fighting the Galra, and putting his life on the line for a war that he didn't even know existed until a few months ago. It seems unfair that he’s coping better than Lance is, because this is his war.

Maybe it's because Lance is starting to like him, no matter how hard he’s trying not to.

It's impossible to deny that he’s cute. Keith is slim, but has definition in his muscles; it's a gentler kind of strength than Shiro has (but Allura has always liked the beefy ones), but it's there nonetheless. And his hair, however horribly styled, looks so soft, just like a snofflegroff. While his sister finds the human’s ears to be mildly repulsing, Lance doesn't mind so much. You don’t have to focus on those when you’re getting lost in his eyes instead.

And Lance hates that he keeps getting distracted by him when he found out not even a year prior that his betrothed is dead, that he has been dead for the past ten thousand years, while Lance was sleeping, and unable to do a thing about it.

OoOoOoOoO

Lance keeps dreaming of Lotor, of that day when he fought his own father for the right to live.

King Zarkon was a beast of a man, tall even for Galran standards. He had never been injured in an Ascension ceremony, and over the years had grown cocky for it. He wore no armor, nothing but the simple garments worn underneath so that the metal did not abrade the skin. His only weapon was his strength, and a small dagger, resting unsheathed on his hip. If one hadn’t been there for the past three Ascensions, one might think that Lotor had a chance.

Lance hoped anyways.

Prince Lotor walked into the arena, a blade strapped to his back. His armor shimmered purple, insignias of both Altean and Galran design decorating his chest and shoulders. Warrior. It said in Galran, the lettering harsh and sharp. Prince. It said in Altean, a forbidden title for one not yet ascended. More words, unreadable shimmered between them.

From a shelf below them, Lance can hear two soldiers talking.

“He’s quite tiny, ain’t he?”

“What makes him so different?” He cackles. “Pretty cocky for a spawn who ain’t even led an army yet.”

Lance’s hands clenched, and he opened his mouth, ready to curse them for the drivel that they spew. His father placed his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Watch.”

His father felt calm, not at all anxious like Lance was feeling. The brief contact calmed his heart, and he settled back into his seat. “Father, I don’t want him to die.”

“He won’t.” King Alfor promised, and the fight began.

OoOoOoOoO

“Lance, you and Keith will take on this sector. Try and reconnect with their royal families; if we’re lucky, we might be able to add them to our alliance.” Allura continues scrolling through the starmap to find the next location, as if she didn’t just knowingly send off her little brother with his crush/greatest rival.

“But, Allura-” Lance begins, a whine slowly creeping into his tone.

She offers him a sly half-smile. “I think you and the Red paladin could use some extra bonding time anyways.”

Curse the mice, he thinks as he trudges off to his room. They keep snooping around the castle, digging around to find gossip, now that Allura’s old supplier is gone. Lance doesn’t really mind, no, not unless it’s him who’s being spied on. Lance bets that she wouldn’t have sent him on this stupid mission with Keith if the mice hadn’t told her of his crush. His passing crush. There was no way that he was gonna let this go anywhere. Allura and her matchmaking games be damned.

“You got a problem with me?” Keith says, jogging to cross the distance between them. Lance keeps walking. He's almost to his room. If he can just- “Lance,” Keith grabs Lance’s wrist, as if to pull him into a dance. Lance freezes. “Is something wrong? Did-did I insult you or something?”

Lance yanks his hand away. “Nothing's wrong. I just-” Lance breaks off, unsure if he should just tell him the truth. He decides on a half truth. “I had a bad dream last night. I didn't get all of my required beauty sleep.” He offers Keith an apologetic grin. “Sorry if I took it out on you.”

Keith seems surprised at his response, enough so that he doesn't question Lance any further as he heads to his room to pack.

OoOoOoO

Lance had heard the rumors. Everyone had. Prince Lotor was a half-breed, and of two royal families no less. It was undeniable in the color of his hair, pale white, like moonlight, and the markings under his eyes. No one really knew who his mother was, not for sure, but they had a guess.

She was unmarried, as true to Altean tradition when one is blessed with magic. Her position allowed her to travel with the royal family, or as to other royals as she pleased. It wasn't unknown that she favored King Zarkon’s castle as her favorite homestead.

As Lotor’s blade cut through his father’s arm, it all connected. The unreadable sigils on his armor, the quickness of his blade. His mother ensured that he would win by way of magic. He bets that if he were close enough, Lance would be able to smell it on him.

The crowd went silent.

No one has ever won against King Zarkon. No one knows what to expect.

Zarkon straightened up, a proud smile displaying his sharpened fangs. He grabbed Lotor’s wrist, and held it up for all to see. “Prince Lotor has ascended!” He roared, and the crowd screamed back.

Prince Lotor was now first in line to the throne.

Lance pretended not to care that Allura will ascend and that he will likely never be more than a Prince.

OoOoOoO

The meeting is still several hours away, and Lance is bored beyond all belief. Keith wants to leave their quarters to explore (he probably wants to find the training room. He practically lives there on their ship.), but it's incredibly rude to the Parvati culture to ignore such a simple request. There's almost nothing in the room besides them, a bed, and a mirror, and even Lance can only look at his reflection for so long. That leaves only Keith to distract him.

“Can you tell me about Earth?” Lance says as Keith paces around the room again. He swears that he can see the path he’s made imprinted into the carpet.

Keith looks up, and meets Lance’s gaze. For a moment, it's unclear if he was even heard, and then the tenseness leaves his body, and he crosses the room to join Lance on the overly plush bed. “What do you want to know? I can't tell you much. I-I’m not that good at describing stuff.”

Lance is sure that he can describe adequately; it's likely that the prospect of choosing a single thing to describe is too daunting. While Lance is curious about his family, it is a touchy subject and one that be wouldn't feel comfortable talking about. He settles on something more general. “Tell me about your home.”

Keith’s mouth upturns in a quiet smile. “I lived in the desert. Orange sand and cactuses everywhere.” He glances up at Lance. He supposes that his face reveals his confusion at what ‘cactuses' are. “They’re these spiny plants that hoard water in their husks, normally green in color. I lived with my dad in this little wooden house, more like a shack really. It wasn't much. Maybe half the size of the training deck, but it was home.”

His tone is wistful, and Lance realizes that this is the first time that he's sounded homesick. Keith looks up and Lance realizes that he's been staring. “What about you?”

Lance knows that the answer to this question should be simple, but it's not. The Castle of lions is where he spent his time between diplomatic meetings and Galas and various other events. It's where his family lived. But it's not his home. “The city of Trisecta. It was this neutral city where we often met with other royal families. Our castle was right next to-” Lance cuts himself off. The Paladins know little to nothing about what the universe was like before Zarkon. Allura says that allowing them to know of their relations with the Galra could cause them to not be trusted; fraternizing with the enemy is bad for morale, even if it occurred thousands of years ago. “This other royal family and I spent most of my vacation time there, with their son, Lotor.” Lance hopes that his small lie doesn’t disrupt his description too much, and if it does, Keith doesn’t let on. “If it’s still around, maybe we could visit.”

“It’s probably been taken over by the Galra already.”

“Then we can free it.” Lance says stubbornly.

The moment has passed, and they go back to silence.

A few moments later, a lock clicks (Lance hadn’t even realized that they'd been locked inside), and they both stand. Lance stands because it is respectful; Keith stands because it’s better to start a fight standing up. A solitary figure steps inside, his two guards stopping outside the door. The door locks again, and they are left alone. Lance can’t seem to open his mouth, and everything that he wants to say is stuck in his throat, choking him. Beside him, Keith has his hand on his bayard, ready to deploy it at a moment’s notice. He glances over at Lance, eyes silently asking for direction.

Prince Lotor grins and offers a mocking bow. “What a surprise that we cross paths again, Prince Lance.”

#voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #lance voltron #lance #altean lance #altean au

[mysidewriting]

Through the Storm

Note: Okay, so I'm just going to go ahead and post this now! Two chapters in one day! This one is much longer and a LOT more eventful than the last. So enjoy c: (Make sure you read chapter four before this! Just want to make sure thats clear since I'm posting twice in a day)

From the start --> Previous chapter

Chapter Five:

Of course my final day with Oak would be the most eventful, and not on purpose.

Another small team of researchers plus Oak and myself had gotten on a boat, going to check some small islands far off the coast. The salty smell of the sea, although much different than the scent of Alola's seas, was still refreshing to me. One of the younger researchers was horrified to see me hanging over the edge of the boat, brushing my fingers across the top of the passing water. I explained I was use to boat travel after spending nearly 3 years in Alola, I wasn't afraid of water whatsoever. If anything the deep blue scenery was comforting to me at this point.

Far over the horizon a small dot appeared. Oak was the first to notice it and immediately rushed to use one of the assistant's binoculars hanging around their necks, almost choking the woman in his excitement. He called me over to see for myself what crazy a chance this was. I respectfully took the binoculars from the woman, and gazed out at the dot.

In such close focus I could see the large flamed wings beating furiously hard against the opposing winds. An intimidatingly long beak stretched out before the large bird. I handed the binoculars back to the woman and asked if we could try to get closer to the rarely seen Moltres. Oak, aware of my peaked interest in the legends of the area, had already requested the boat to follow the bird.

We managed to steer up right beneath the large flamed beast. Many cameras snapped in the direction of the bird, excited chatter as people quickly took down notes of the appearance.

It gazed down at us, its eyes holding an intensity similar to the fire that spurted from its wings. Its beak opened to let out a booming loud screech and swooped away, moments later flames exploded next to the ship, plumes of smoke surrounding the crew.

The boat shuddered and every person panicked momentarily, the smoke clouding our view of where the Pokémon had went. I released Tsunami and it quickly disappeared beneath the surface of the ocean, I could see the long figure weaving through the waves closest to the haul.

The smoke cleared just enough to grant a view of the bird swooping back around to attack once again. Oak swore, remarking about how it was always dangerous to get so close to a powerful Pokémon.

I shouted that I would take care of it, if no one scared off the beast it was likely that the boat would sink.

I thought of Gladion for a moment, he'd be pissed when he found out what I did. Or at least planned on doing.

I readied myself, the figure beneath the water doing the same. Once Moltres was within five feet of the boat I leapt off the side, someone behind me shouted. Tsunami burst from the water suddenly, catching me on it's back as its form shifted and shimmered.

The newly evolved dragonite shot a plume of fire from its mouth on my command, nailing Moltres hard enough for it to redirect and ascend higher into the sky.

Tsunami followed, its wings beating just as furiously as the legendary in order to support my weight. My heart pounded painfully hard in my chest as we approached the angered bird. Waves of heat could be felt as we drew nearer. It screeched at us and attempted to swerve away from its approaching foe. Tsunami was ready though and quickly veered to cut off the bird's escape route. A dangerously powerful dragon's tail slamming the bird out of the sky.

I watched, worried for the Pokémon to hit the water... but it managed to regain its flight before making contact with the surface. It screeched again and flew in the opposite direction of the boat quickly, fleeing.

My legs shook as I slid off the back of Tsunami and to the deck of the boat. The large Pokémon let out a jubilant roar and everyone on the boat applauded both of us. Oak commended me for my bravery and I told him it was nothing in comparison to the things I'd done in the past.

Everything seemed uneventful after that insane encounter. The assistants asked me thousands of questions about Moltres, most of which I still could not answer. The islands we found had minimal Pokémon population, most of it being slowpoke unsurprisingly.

At the end of the day Oak handed me a pokeball. Inside was a newly hatched charmander - waiting anxiously to meet me. Oak explained that he had planned on giving me something else as a reward for all the hard work I'd done to help him, but after watching me bravely ward off the fearsome bird he didn't think anything else was appropriate.

I asked if I could borrow one of his old books covering legendary Pokémon and he agreed on the condition that I bring it back before I left Kanto. I obviously agreed and I made my departure from the office for the last time, at least in the context of work.

Daisy let me use the computer in the living room with no hesitation. I had been waiting for Green to get back from...where ever he was... so I could ask about our planned trip to Seafoam but he was taking longer than I thought he would. Hau wanted to have another video chat so I agreed, figuring it would pass the time.

I sat on the computer chair, my knees pulled up to my chest and the borrowed book resting in the crevice between my tummy and legs. The screen popped up, Hau's grinning face the first I saw before Lillie and Gladion came up as well.

"Lillie!" Hau shouted in a musical tone. "How was shopping?"

She giggled, shaking her head with a sheepish grin. "It went great."

Hau just laughed, seemingly excited by this small exchange. I'd asked Lillie if she'd been talking to Hau a lot after I forced her to text him a few days ago, apparently they talked nearly all day now. They both enjoyed it so I couldn't criticize all the attention on a screen. It seemed the both of them were heading in a good direction.

"Don't you shop too much?" Gladion asked, defiance on his face. "The last I saw your closet was overflowing."

She shrugged, "I like getting new clothes and I have the money for it so..." she laughed and I mentally applauded her for her own defiance to her brother - totally unmoved by his mildly offensive words.

Lillie's attention switched to me as she asked, "Moon, how was the last day with Oak?"

"It went well!" I paused, remembering the wind rushing past my face as I rode on the back of Tsunami. The heat of the huge legendary bird. I slammed my hands down on the desk, shouting "Oh! Something crazy happened!"

Lillie and Hau's eyes widened in suspense and excitement at my reaction. Gladion only rose an eyebrow and stated plainly, "What happened?"

I excitedly explained the events that had happened earlier in the day, how I'd faced off against one of Kanto's legends on the back of my newly evolved dragonite after nearly being killed by it. How I'd flown through the skies and felt the heat of the huge Moltres that was so rarely seen in the region. That dragonite and I had successfully scared the bird away from harming all of Oak's team and been rewarded with one of Kanto's most famous starters. Hau and Lillie reacted just as would be expected to my words, rising and falling with the tides of the tale.

Gladion just watched my face and I imagined he was gauging whether or not to yell at me for putting myself in danger. After I finished explaining I reclined back in the chair, letting my feet drop to the ground and nearly dropping the book that had been held up by my legs.

Hau and Lillie gushed their shared excitement. Hau exploded about the battle description I had given him and his jealousy of my new teammates. Lillie freaked about the appearance of a legendary she had read so little about and wanted to see for herself. I answered both their questions and tried my best to explain the Phoenix-like Pokémon.

Hau started going on about his own adventures of the day. He'd been working with his grandfather, training, and ran into former leader of team skull, Guzma. I watched Gladion visibly cringe as he heard the name and I passed him an understanding smirk that only he caught. Apparently Guzma had challenged Hau to a battle and completely wrecked him. The man had gotten much more skillful with his Pokémon recently, and cared more for them - or so it seemed by Hau.

"I kind of talked him into going to hang out with your mom, Moon." Hau said with a hesitant grin, tossing a hand behind his head and laughing with just as much hesitance.

My jaw dropped, "why would you do that?" I half snapped.

Hau shrugged, "I didn't really mean too? I don't think it'll cause issues."

"I hope it doesn't." Lillie said quietly. "Your mom has enough to handle already."

"Sorry." Hau said.

I shook my head and cupped my face in my hands, "I'll call her and warn her some kind of crazy guy is possibly going to visit."

"Did anyone tell Bub about all this?" Lillie asked, drawing a sigh out of Gladion and an annoyed eyeroll... likely in reaction to the new name she'd been calling him.

"I didn't." I said, "We had other things to discuss." I pointed a glare towards Gladion, referencing his drunken night.

I vowed to not poke any more fun at him when I noticed the dark expression that had taken hold of his face. "My parents are getting a divorce." I stated calmly, surprised to see his face lighten quite a bit - shock replacing the darkness.

The heavy wooden door leading outside slammed shut behind me and I twisted to see Green standing in the doorway, he met my gaze then with a face of disgust towards me before continuing down the hallway towards the kitchen. "Finally!" I mockingly shouted after him. He made loud fake gagging noises in response - drawing a laugh from my gut.

"Who is that?!" Hau asked, excited as a growlithe pup at the sight of a new person.

I was about to respond when Green's voice boomed from the kitchen. "Who said you could use my computer, kid?"

"Your sister!" I said with a sly smirk on my face, turning to look in the direction his voice came from.

He made more fake gagging noises and I rolled my eyes. "That's Green." I said in response to Hau finally. "And I've been waiting for him all day!" I shouted.

"He he he." He fake chuckled and wandered back into the room. He appeared behind me and folded his arms atop my head, pushing me down so he was in the camera too - a blank look on his face.

"Hi!" Hau said.

"Who are these people, eh?" Green asked.

"Friends." I moved so he stumbled and I burst out laughing as he quickly had to correct his stance. He flipped me off and wandered back out of the room.

"Are you ready for our trip tomorrow?" He called.

A grin burst across my face and I turned to face him in the hallway. "Yeah of course! When are we going?" I looked back to the screen and quickly apologized to them for stealing all the attention and conversation away. "I'll just go so you guys can talk."

"Finish talking with him and come back!" Lillie said with a smile, "I'm sure we'll still be on."

I checked the time, "I should probably get ready for tomorrow too though, I need to make sure I packed all my stuff." I shouted towards Green again, taunting him. "I'd hate to come back here again."

"Shut up, Moon." He snapped back.

"Just go." Gladion flatly assured, his gaze directed away from the computer screen and his face shrouded by those long bangs.

His tone was so... irritated sounding. My shoulders dropped and a frown creased my face. "Okay, talk later guys..." I waited for just a second to see if he'd see me off but he didn't budge so I just logged off.

Green planned to meet up with Red around one in the afternoon, we'd leave shortly after that. It would likely be an all-day thing since the caves were so confusing and hard to get through with ice. I made a quick request to bring someone along with me, even though I had yet to ask them if they wanted to come. Green shrugged, muttering that they'd be my responsibility but 'sure'.

So after making sure all my stuff was packed away and all my Pokémon were accounted for, I called Lillie. It had gotten pretty late and I doubted the guys would still be online considering the huge time difference between the regions. She picked up rather quickly.

"Hey, Moon. What's up?" She said, her voice cheerful as always.

"Hey! I was wondering if you wanted to come explore Seafoam islands with Red, Green, and I tomorrow. It'll be all day thing but should be super cool!" I offered.

She gasped, "Really? I can go? With the champions?"

I laughed, "yeah of course."

"Yeah I want to go! What time? When should I get to Pallet?"

"We're leaving around one so I'm sure you could come now if you wanted too? I'll check with Green for sure."

"You check with him and I'll fly right over!" Her voice dripped with excitement.

Two hours later Lillie was in my borrowed room, freaking out about some message Hau had sent that was super sweet and hinted at romantic and how her brother was being weirdly jealous about me. I listened to her go on and on about Hau and all the things they talked about and nearly teared up to see her so happy. It was so odd that all it had taken for this to start was forcing her to text the guy.

I remarked about this and her face turned so red I started laughing. She'd always been too hesitant to actually hold such long conversations with him, worried she would say something dumb. I questioned how she could even think she'd come off dumb but of course she didn't have a real reason other than fear.

As for the part about her brother, I figured she meant how he had acted right before I'd left the video call. "Yeah, what was that about... do you know?"

She threw her arms up in confusion, "All I know is that he was totally being a jealous baby."

"What does he have to be jealous about though?" I laughed, the sound was hesitant. Something twisted in my gut, an odd feeling of satisfaction about the situation settled in. Why would it be satisfying for him to be jealous...?

"Probably because of Green." She tapped a finger to her bottom lip. "Maybe he's jealous that you made new friends."

I shrugged, brushing the conversation off as though I didn't really care what he was jealous about. But the thought lingered at the back of my mind, waiting to be thoroughly mulled over.

The two of us stayed up far later than we really should have considering how grueling the exploration of the caves would be. She had so much to talk about - Hau, her mother, her brother, her Pokémon evolving, the research she did about the Kanto legends as well. It was eleven when we finally tucked ourselves into the shared bed. An hour of further chatting about her and Hau's possibility of dating passed before she managed to drift off to sleep.

G//Hey, Moon...?

I was shocked to see the text. He was staying up so late these days... I glanced at Lillie to make sure she was in fact asleep before responding.

M// yeah?

G//What happened with your parents?

Oh, right. I'd sort of bluntly told him my parents were divorcing without explaining anything. I'd been distracted by Green getting home and totally fell off the train of the call in general. Guilt punched me in the gut, why did I focus on Green when I was talking to my friends? I felt pretty shit about it.

M//oh yeah... well my dad was hanging around with some other lady while I was staying at his house... so I had to tell my mom. //obviously her natural response was divorce.

G//Wow. Your dad is an ass.

M//yeeeah... I didn't expect it at all...

G//You okay?

M// I think so? I don't know if I've fully processed it yet //my mom seems to be handling it fairly well though, so that's good. I'm the most worried for her being upset.

G//Well... if you need someone to talk too... you know I'm here.

Maybe I shouldn't have been smiling about that, but for some reason I was.

M//Thank you //I'm sorry for not telling you earlier... when I told everyone else...

G//It's okay. Apparently it was my fault anyway.

M//no it wasn't. I should have told you, I was just distracted and worried about you drinking.

G//Shit G//I'm sorry...

M//no need to apologize~

G//... G//It's late. Talk tomorrow...

M//haha okay. Night

I needed to tell him about the information I found about Mewtwo. He'd be interested considering his closest and most trusted Pokémon was also a manmade creation. Hopefully he was serious about talking tomorrow...

I drifted off after another twenty minutes, my mind spiraling off into thoughts of dangerous legendary and experimental Pokémon.

Seafoam was further away than we had expected. It took us a solid two hours to arrive on the shore of the massive chunk of rock. Green withdrew the abnormally large gyardos he had enlisted to transport us over the ocean with a thanks.

The caves were strange. Lillie had done some minimal research on them while riding here and apparently there were two separate areas where they broke the surface of the ocean and opened to the skies. One of the openings was harder to access and almost nobody had ever entered or exited through it unless flying. We both figured that was how articuno managed to get into the cave.

The other entrance was currently in front of us, a gaping maw of jutting rock and cold breezy air. I'd stuffed an extra sweater in my backpack this morning just in case and I was ready to throw it on already.

There was something unsettling about underwater caves. This fear that they would collapse out of nowhere. I tried to ignore it as we carefully entered the cave, avoiding the sharp, ice covered rocks near the entrance.

The further in we ventured the further the temperature dropped and the dimmer the lighting became. Lillie vice gripped my forearm in fear of sliding on a stray patch of ice on the floor. Large stalactites hung over head and flocks of zubat fluttered between them with strange chirping noises. Green entertained himself by shouting out random Pokémon names and listening to his own voice echo back at him in a strange octave. Red snickered at the noise, his pikachu that rode on his shoulders tilting its head in confusion each time the warped version of Green's voice met its ears.

Eventually the flashlights came out. Red's pikachu's cheeks released a small amount of discharge to provide some small light and it bounced around in front of us to guide the way. It made this adorable little noise as it hopped and skipped around large rocks, ice, and small pools of water. Lillie and I couldn't help but giggle at it, she attempted to imitate the noise quietly so the two guys with us couldn't hear - but she ended up laughing every time she tried instead.

After about twenty minutes of walking through tight, descending passages, the walls opened up to a larger space. The sound of rushing water coming from somewhere below us. Smalls bits of light flooded through cracks in the ceiling where thin trickles of water leaked into the depths of the cave. It was gorgeous, all four of us paused for a moment to take a good look at the scenery. Lillie snapped a few pics on her phone before tugging out her own extra sweater, the chill of the cave reaching me at the same moment.

I shivered and quickly pulled out my own sweater. Green noticed both of us pulling the fabric over our heads and laughed, "It's not that cold, ya babies."

Lillie pouted, her signature annoyed pout that was way too cute to have any significant effect on people. "It's freezing, you're just trying to be cool."

I laughed, she was right. Green rolled his eyes, "I'm not cold."

"You already have two jackets on though." I pointed out, which brought a snide grin to Red's face as well.

Green flipped me off and took the lead. Lillie, Red and I followed after. I fiddled with the double hoods, trying to get them to lay in such a way that it didn't feel like there was 10 pounds on the back of my neck. Then I realized what sweater I had grabbed this morning and my cheeks burned. I give it ten minutes at most before Lillie comments about this.

A loud screech stopped us in our tracks. A black figure dive bombing from the ceiling directly in front of me specifically. Stumbling backwards, my foot hit a slippery piece of ice and I landed backwards on my ass before realizing it was an oversized golbat that had assaulted us. It angrily lunged at me and I quickly tossed out lycanroc without thinking, having the Pokémon quickly blast the foe away with accelerock.

Lillie helped me up quickly as Kai danced around the golbat, another five zubat fluttering down from the ceiling in reaction to the disturbance.

Suddenly both Red and Green had their Pokémon out, knocking out the bats as quickly as possible. Lillie, Kai, and I raced to a lower level of the cave and hid beneath an overhang of rock where the bats wouldn't see us as easily.

"Those were really big." Lillie's eyes were wide and round, freaked out by the attack. "I've never seen them so big."

I shook my head, "me neither. It was freaky."

Kai had been bitten in the process of attacking the golbat and I quickly patched her up before the poison could set in. I gave her a tight hug and thanked her for having such quick reflexes. Lillie thanked her as well before I recalled her to her ball where she could rest. The noise of the battle continued on overhead, though it sounded as though it were dying down now. There are way too many zubat here.

Lillie tugged at my sleeve and my cheeks started going red before she could even open her mouth.

"So...why do you..." she started.

I cut her off, "He forced me to take it before I went up Lanikala that first time. I tried giving it back like twenty times but he wouldn't take it."

She giggled, "So two years?"

I nodded, afraid to make eye contact with her.

"I was wondering why he hadn't worn that old sweater in so long." She laughed again, "How strange..." Her words drifted off and I could tell by the expression on her face that she was lost in her thoughts.

I forced myself out of my own thoughts, out of the memory of running into her brother right before making the trek up to the league. The way he'd grinned at me that day was something that still plagued my mind once in a while... I bounced around on my feet to get everything out of my head and refocus on the task at hand. Lillie laughed at me and I locked gazes with her.

"Okay let's forget about the fact that I use your brother's emo sweater when it's cold and go try to find articuno!" I said with a fist towards the ceiling.

The whole zubat fiasco only took another ten minutes after that. We didn't run into any other rouge ones the rest of the way and Green jokingly remarked about knocking out or scaring all of them. Lillie made the mistake of agreeing with him and suddenly his arrogance was back in full force.

Before we could make much more progress through the stoned passages we had to clear out some larger boulders. Green had his machamp help us with that, though even the four armed Pokémon struggled to shove some of the massive rocks aside its self. As such the four of us plus the muscular Pokémon all helped with pushing the blockade out of the way. Beyond that point there was a lot of steep vaults that Lillie and I carefully shimmied down while Red and Green enjoyed themselves leaping across them as quickly as possible.

The rock was slick with water and ice and the two of them nearly fell a good ten times before the terrain evened out once again. They'd gotten so far ahead of us though that I'd decided to have dragonite help Lillie and I catch up with them, carrying us carefully down to meet up with them.

I wondered how we could had made any of the progress we had if Red, Green, and I hadn't had powerful Pokémon to help. The chances of other trainers reaching this point was extremely minimal. I tossed that idea out to the group and a strange atmosphere settled around us as we realized we could possibly be feeling out unmapped territory. Seeing things no one else had seen before.

Lillie was giddy to think she was experiencing something like that again. She released her ivysaur to have it experience the caves, letting it wander with us while the ground wasn't too treacherous.

We happened upon this room where the ceiling was completely made of thick ice. Light flittered through from above the ocean, casting strange reflections of the surface of the ocean across the glass like dome. Thousands of shades of blue rippled and flowed throughout the isolated bubble of air beneath the tides. The floor, completely covered in ice as well, was grounds for entertainment for all of us - started by Lillie's clumsy ivysaur that slid halfway across the room whilst chasing a passing school of golden beyond the ice.

Red, Green, and I tested how far we could slide across the ice without trying. It quickly became a contest of who could slide the farthest. Lillie recorded all of it, a soundtrack of our laughter filling the silence of the videotaping. Red ended up with the furthest distance of sliding and Green and I spent way too long trying to figure out why he could go so far.

It became dark once again as we descended even further into the chilled cave. That sound of rushing water becoming louder and louder until we reached what seemed to be the bottom. The floor was almost entirely submerged in deep water, small chunks of ice covered rocks peaked out over the top of the dark waves. The light coming from pikachu's cheeks was by far not enough to illuminate the cave, so Red released charizard who roared as it realized how dark it was in the cave.

A large pillar of fire shot from the dragon's mouth, the cave lit up in an orange glow. Ice reflecting the color across the ceiling and the water. It stayed lit even after charizard had stopped shooting flames, the ice somehow retaining that glow. Red and Green were just as awestruck as Lillie and I were.

In the center of the room a large bird stood, perched on the ice coated stone that jutted from the water. Its blue plumage seemed to emanate a frosted mist, the air around it somehow colder than the rest of the already freezing room. There was a darker blue crest on the forehead of the beast that was shockingly similar to the large icicles hanging around the room. Its tail feathers were twice its body length and shimmered with ice shards as though it were composed of thin sheets of diamond.

"So that's it, eh?" Green said, appearing behind Lillie and I and dropping his arms across our shoulders. "That's the legendary articuno little Moon here has been freaking out about all week."

The bird's eyes locked on us and I tensed, waiting for a scenario similar to what had happened yesterday to ensue. Instead, articuno only ruffled its sparkling feathers and coo'ed at us. My heart skipped a few beats as I felt its gaze meet mine, I ached to get closer, to feel its cold feathers.

"I think it likes you, Moon!" Lillie grinned.

The water was too dangerous to transverse on my own so I glanced to everyone else, "do we want to get closer?"

Red wordlessly tossed out another pokeball, releasing a lapras and inviting everyone to step onto its back. Articuno extended its wings to full width as we approached, it's strong flaps sent icy winds through the air directly towards us. I yanked up my hood as the frost nipped at my ears and combed through my hair.

"Moon." Lillie stage whispered at me. I span to look at her and noticed she had her phone held in such a way that she was clearly recording me. I grinned at her and turned to look at articuno once again, readying myself to step off the lapras once we got close enough.

Lapras cried out and articuno responded with a booming caw. My limbs tensed once again and I found myself carefully stepping off lapras's back without really thinking about it. I felt a hand grab my arm and lock me in place.

"What are you doing, kid!" Green shouted at me. "Are you crazy?"

I simply nodded and he released me, allowing me to approach the bird. Its wings folded back down and its head lowered so it could stare me straight in the eye. My body was shaking now, between the cold and the nerves - I found it hard to take each step. I held out my trembling hand and the bird tapped its beak against my palm.

My whole body locked up... couldn't move, couldn't speak. The bird's eyes pierced mine and the knowledge behind them made my stomach churn, it was trying to tell me something. I could tell by the way it gazed at me. A warning of some sort that I could only read through the ferocity and concern in the beasts eyes.

Nausea overtook me and I finally broke from the hold the bird had taken over me. I stumbled back a step and articuno reared up once again, its wings folding out and exposing its large feathered chest to me. It called out, this gorgeous song that sent a shiver down my spine... then it took off with a strong beat of its wings. It flew up through a small passageway in the ceiling that I hadn't noticed before - likely the location of the other entrance.

#gladion x moon #fanfic #gladion fanfic #lonashipping #pokemon #romance #adventure #Hau x Lillie #through the storm #through the storm chapter five